


The Breaking Point

by DelusionsbyBonnie, The London-in-the-Air Archival Society (sakuuya)



Series: The London-in-the-Air Archival Society [2]
Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 30,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie/pseuds/DelusionsbyBonnie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya/pseuds/The%20London-in-the-Air%20Archival%20Society
Summary: Rescued set descriptions (and set images, where possible) from round two of the Polyvore battle group Battle for London in the Air. Primarily not my work, uploaded here unedited for archival purposes.





	1. Helena's Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user and LITA creator @decoder13. It was part of the set-up for this round.

_My dear friend and colleague,_

_As you may or may not yet be aware, two days ago, our main base on Platform Pi was violently and suddenly attacked. The confirmed participation of troops in government uniforms - as well as that of government assassin Ambrose Lynch, his daughter Lenora, and his apprentice Davis Heaton - has led us to believe that the Lord Mayor and the city board have everything to do with this attack. The attack occurred (perhaps luckily) during a small meeting attended by myself, my brother, and several other members in leadership and support positions._

_How the government found the base in the first place and how they knew when to attack in order to try to cut off the head of the snake, so to speak, is unknown. Last week, the government's most complete information in regards to us confirmed that we did not exist. This week, they sent several coordinated, elite martial teams to our main base without batting an eye. Their mission, as far as we know, was apparently to burn as many of our things and to wound, injure, or kill as many of our leaders as possible before said elite teams had to get home for tea._

_Supply stores were raided, and months worth of intelligence and research was destroyed. Critical papers and information on individual rebellion members were valiantly burned by Mrs. Dutch during the heat of the attack before any of it could be seized, so all of you can thank her for the fact that you are currently alive to read this. However, some documents were still seized by the government. We're still looking into what is missing and what Steers and his goons might know - under the circumstances, be on your guard, and do what you can to keep safe._

_There were 5 lives lost in the attack, all of them guards and researchers currently stationed at our base. Mrs. Dutch, Dr. Suttler, Ms. Gunn, my brother Chauncey, myself, and most others present are alive though not unscathed._

_An attempt was made to take three members alive during the fighting - Dr. Massey, Professor Gilbert, and my own brother Bartholomew. The attempt was unsuccessful, but all three were badly injured in the process of escaping, and the resulting injuries currently endanger Bartholomew's life. We are doing all we can for him - anything else you can think of will be tried if we think it might work._

_We are not a secret anymore. We can let that be the curse that ends us, or we can let this be the day we stop being a cluster of heated whisperers hiding underground and start being the brave soldiers of a revolution. Your base has been compromised. Your friends have been injured and killed. Steers and Hazard have openly declared war on us._

_They made just one mistake in their attack - they didn't attempt to bring down anyone but our leaders. Did it never cross their minds just how much more dangerous the body of the resistance is than just the few people who make all of our pretty speeches? I have every confidence that we will make them sorely regret their mistake. If this is war now, that means all holds and bars are broken. If this is war, then we will fight. And if we fight, I know - I KNOW - we will win._

_Soon, we will recover. Then we can talk strategy and precision. For now, survive, keep safe, and await further instruction. The battle is just beginning, and each and every one of you will be called into action within the next few days. There are blue roses aplenty awaiting all who answer that call._

_Sincerely,_

_Helena_


	2. Mary Kravitz / @h-awkeye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @h-awkeye.

"Nat."

"I can't believe in it!" Mary yelled.

"Nat."

"They was trying to kill us, Lou. Kill. Us!!"

"MARY NATALIE KRAVITZ!!" Louise screamed, making her sister stop. "Keep calm okay? What are you planning to do now?"

She almost said "sit down and cry" or "shot someone" but she didn't. She picked up her bag, some sprays and paints, a gun and a knife.

"Nat, you can't just start screaming on the street with a gun and a knife." Louise said, almost laughing.

"You know I can, Lou. but I'll not do it."

She opened the door and said:

"Do you wanna make some provocative art?"


	3. Matt Valentine / @klaus-seance-hargreeves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @klaus-seance-hargreeves.

Matt got the letter after waking up and seeing it nailed to the side of his warehouse's wall. As he read the letter he made sure Tommy Black wasn't involved. He wouldn't know what to do if he was hurt. Then as he read further and saw that most of his work was destroyed, he flipped.


	4. Rosie Rogers / @the-forgotten-wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @the-forgotten-wolf and possibly co-written by Polyvore users @klaus-seance-hargreeves and/or @fire-to-the-skies.

Rosie hummed under her breath as she jotted down a few words, and quickly erased them afterwards. She'd been trying to get this poem down on paper all morning, but the words just didn't seem to want to flow. She frowned before ripping the paper out irritably.

She'd left the warehouse she shared with Matt pretty early, so that he'd be able to get some sleep. The brunette rolled her eyes as she started writing again. Matt had stayed up all night, ignoring her pleas for him to go to bed. He'd practically been awake for three days now!

Rosie grimaced, tearing out another page. She sighed and stood up, brushing her skirt off in the process. Clearly she wasn't going to be writing anything today, so the best thing to do would to go home. Maybe Matt was awake. She knew he would have something interesting for her to do.

***

Rosie sucked in a breath as she opened the warehouse door. She stepped in hesitantly, alert and on guard as she surveyed the damage.

"Matt?" She called out, cringing when her voice echoed noisely.

She glanced around, her jaw almost dropping at the damage. Gears littered the ground, along with chairs, prototypes, and other odd items.

"Matt!" She called out again, now more concerned. What had happened? She walked further inside, carefully avoiding the broken glass.

Her eyes darted around, looking for any clue that could tell her what had happened. It wasn't even several moments later that she spotted a crinkled peice of parchment.

Rosie quickly picked it up and scanned her eyes over it. Her mouth dropped and her hand rose to cover it. She continued to read in horror until she couldn't stomach to read more.

"Oh god..." She murmured under her breath, before turning and running out of the warehouse.

***

Her first stop was to make sure Mae knew about what had happened. Rosie knew the blonde was always out taking pictures and was rarely found at home. It was likely she hadn't even heard about the attack.

She found Mae perched on a fire escape, camera posed for a picture.

"What are you doing?" She asked, knowing Mae's father would be upset if he knew she was here. She shifted, flicking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Oh god!" Mae quickly grabbed her camera before it could slip through her hands. She whirled around, blonde hair flying.

"Rosie Rogers!" She exclaimed, her brows furrowing. Whether it was in irritation or amusement, Rosie would never know.

"How many times have I told you that when I climb up onto something you shouldn't follow?" Her head quirks to the side as she actually thinks about it. "Probably a lot?" She responded.

Mae huffed and asked, "Is there something you need? I was THIS close to finally getting a shot of Lenora."

She glanced down as her fingers come up to fumble with the end of her hair. Rosie hadn't wanted to be the one to tell her about something this horrible.

"Oh no," Mae's face drained of all color. "Has something happened?"

Rosie pulled out the wrinkled envelope, glancing down down at it before cautiously handing it over to Mae. "I assumed yours would be at your parents. But when you weren't there and I saw it was untouched, I figured you'd want to see it right away."

Mae practically ripped the letter out of her hand before reading it quickly.

"This...this isn't true, is it?" She choked out, making Rosie frown sadly. The brunette reached out to offer a hand of comfort, but paused midair. She wasn't to good at the comforting thing. Now spontaneous hugs? That was something she could do, but offering actual comfort was not her strong suit.

"I'm afraid it is." She muttered, her eyes dropping to her dirty boots.

"Where's my father?" Mae asked, her head snapping up. "Was he hurt? Do we know who's been injured? Is my mother all right?"

Rosie ponders the questions for a moment, trying to remember what she had overheard on her way here.

"Your mother is fine, she wasn't anywhere near the base when it happened," Rosie tells her. "But..."

"But?!"

"Your father was shot in the arm." She bit her lip anxiously, knowing how Mae would react.

"No."

Rosie was quick to try and comfort her with words. "Maeson, please, he's all right. They took him to the hidden base back between Lambda and Nu, he's going to be fine - "

Mae ignored her and jumped up, quickly packing her things into her rucksack.

Rosie sighed and followed the blonde to the hidden base, hoping that everything would be alright.

***

"Pa!" Mae cried out as she dropped to her knees next to her father. His eyes cracked open and a warm smile covered his lips when he saw his daughter.

Rosie hung in the background, unsure if she should aproach. In a way, she was jealous of Mae. Her own family had died, and she was left to seek revenge. It was all Rosie lived for really.

"Little Mae, it's all right. I'm fine. Where's your mother?" The brunette snapped out of her thoughts and turned back to the small reunion. "Back at your home, sir. She should be getting her letter just about now." The brunette added in, stepping a little closer.

"Go help your mum," Was Mae's father's immediate response.

"I want to help YOU," Mae butted in, her voice strong and firm. "You're hurt and I'm not leaving your side."

"It's nothing I can't handle. Your mother will need you more than I - please, don't fight me on this, child."

Rosie sucked in a breath, knowing what was coming.

"Child?" Mae spit out. It was silent for a few moments.

"Fine."

Rosie dropped to her knees and helped the man sit up. "Go help your mother, but I'll let you know this." He breathed out. "We lost a lot if not all of the photographic evidence we had on the government. Everything burned. Hundreds of albums."

"I have my own photos," She responded. "I can give them to the Resistance. I can help."

"Please remember you're only a - "

"A child?" Rosie sighed, knowing that Mae hated to be called a child. The brunette desperately wanted to tell her to listen to her father. To tell her that she should be grateful she even had a father to look out for her and to protect her. "I know I'm young, but I want to help. Why just because I was born years after you do I have to be silenced?"

It was quiet for a few more moments before the man spoke up again. "Fine. Bring me the pictures when you can." Mae nodded.

"You're going to do something, aren't you?" Rosie asked as they left the base.

"You bet your sweet gears I am," Mae replied haughtily. "I'm going to get another picture of Mayor Steers. But this time, he's going to know I'm the one taking it."

***

Rosie sighed as she left Mae at her house. It seemed everyone had something to do to help, but her. She frowned, kicking a couple of rocks out of her way as she walked down the road.

She'd already went back to the base and asked if they had anything for her to do. They'd told her to stay out of the way, and that she was too young to do anything useful. Rosie scoffed at that; she'd show them.

She paused, her eyes lighting up. She knew exactly what could do.

***

Almost an our later, Rosie was out in town, searching for someone to spy on. Someone had to be gossiping about the attack.

Her eyes roamed over the women in expensive dresses and the men with their charming smiles. It seemed a lot of rich people were out; and Rosie knew that those were usually the ones to look out for.

She spied a woman handing an envelope to a man in a nice looking suit. They talked in hushed whispers, so Rosie was unsure of what they were saying. She darted closer cautiously, making sure no one saw her in the shadows.

"Don't loose it, it's very important." She heard the woman say firmly as the man slipped the envelope into his coat pocket.

"Yes, I know." He muttered flippantly, effectively ending the conversation. Each walked away in different directions, but Rosie chose to follow the man.

After following him for several minutes, she grew bored. This man seemed like he had no idea where he was going. She sighed, deciding that it was better now than never. She stumbled into the man.

"Hey! Watch where you're going." He glared and dusted off his coat.

"I am so sorry!" Rosie exclaimed from her spot on the ground. She clutched on his coat, attempting to pull herself up.

"Let go of me child!" He yelled angrily, kicking her off of him. Rosie stared wide eyed as he left.

Once she was sure he was gone though, she pull the hidden object out from under her leg. She grinned, staring at the faded envelope.

And they said she couldn't help. This had to be something important!


	5. Maeson Hatford / @fire-to-the-skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @fire-to-the-skies and co-written by Polyvore user @the-forgotten-wolf. It contains some overlapping content with the previous chapter.

 

Maeson's fingers flutter over her camera.

"Come on," she urges with a whisper, slightly focusing farther into the shot she had trained on the window. "Just move out from behind that pillar...come...on..."

An arm does just that, but the rest of the body stays put.

"Oh, gearstick!" she curses, shaking off her tense shoulders.

She's been squeezed onto this fire escape for over fifteen minutes now, crouched low and hunched over, just to get a picture of Lenora Lynch. Her father would absolutely piss if he knew of her whereabouts - but as the somewhat unofficial but official photographer for the Resistance, she had to put herself into risky situations for the perfect picture.

"Just one picture, come on," she keeps pushing, hoping her hushed talkings to herself would get the assassins daughter to appear back in front of the window. "Just one..."

Brown curly hair finally peeks out. Maeson immediately flicks her finger to get ready for the picture. Just a few more inches and she'd be primed for the shot...

"What are you doing?"

"Oh god!" Maeson almost drops her camera, her hands too quick to ever let that happen. She managed to just catch her most prized possession before she whirls around to meet the voice who had interrupted her perfectly timed mission.

"Rosie Rogers!” Mae exclaims, her brows furrowing. "How many times have I told you that when I climb up onto something you shouldn't follow?"

The brunette girl tips her head to the side, giving the question some ponder. "Probably a lot?"

The blonde girl huffs. "Is there something you need? I was THIS close to finally getting a shot of Lenora."

Rosie's face goes rigid, her fingers coming up to start playing with the end of her hair. Maeson could feel her own face bleed white. "Oh no," she mutters. "Has something happened?"

Rosie pulls out a wrinkled paper from her rucksack, glancing at it once before handing it over to Maeson. "I assumed yours would be at your parents. But when you weren't there and saw it was untouched, I figured you'd want to see it right away."

Maeson felt her blood run cold.

She grabs the letter and practically rips it trying to unfold too quickly. As her eyes pour over the words she could feel herself slowly and slowly spiraling in mid-air. Her eyes felt heavy and her throat thick.

"This...this isn't true, is it?"

Rosie's hand dangled like she wanted to place it on Maeson in comfort. "I'm afraid it is."

"Where's my father?" Maeson immediately asks, her head whipping up faster than she thought physically possible. "Was he hurt? Do we know who's been injured? Is my mother all right?"

"Your mother is fine, she wasn't anywhere near the base when it happened," Rosie tells her. "But..."

"But?!"

"Your father was shot in the arm."

Maeson's vision went black.

"No."

"Maeson, please, he's all right. They took him to the hidden base back between Lambda and Nu, he's going to be fine - "

The blonde girl jumps up and begins to pack her camera back up, slowly sliding it into her rucksack so no harm would come to it. Lenora's filthy face can receive a picture another time - her father is much more important.

As her and Rosie rush to the hidden base, Maeson can't help do anything but focus on the pounding their feet make as their run across the bridge to Nu. She felt her heart thudding in her ears and she thought of each terrible scenario - who of the Resistance was dead? Were the leaders okay? Was Helena going to be all right?

There was so much she didn't know and it was frustrating her to no end.

Once at the base, they had to get through so many levels of security it made Maeson want her head to explode, but when she finally made it into the small medical wing that was obviously created just that day, she runs straight to the bed where her father lay.

"Pa!" she cries, dropping to her knees beside him.

His eyes peak open and he cracks a smile, grabbing her outstretched hand the moment he sees it. "Little Mae," he murmurs. "It's all right. I'm fine. Where's your mother?"

Rosie intervenes her. "Back at your home, sir. She should be getting her letter just about now."

"Go help your mum," her father immediately orders, squeezing her hand in comfort and love.

"I want to help YOU," Maeson instantly counters with the same tone of authority he just used with her. "You're hurt and I'm not leaving your side."

"It's nothing I can't handle. Your mother will need you more than I - please, don't fight me on this, child."

"Child?" Maeson spits.

Her father's eyes close in irritation, knowing full well that Maeson hated to be referred to as a kid since she swears she is more grown-up than anyone she knows. A little firecracker, this one is.

"Fine," her father says as he sits up slightly, propping up back against his pillows with the help of Rosie. "Go help your mother, but I'll let you know this." He breathes out slowly, hoping that telling her this would put too many ideas in her head. "We lost a lot if not all of the photographic evidence we had on the government. Everything burned. Hundreds of albums."

"I have my own photos," she immediately responds with a fire in her voice. "I can give them to the Resistance. I can help."

"Please remember you're only a - "

"A child?" Maeson flatly finishes for him. "I know I'm young, but I want to help. Why just because I was born years after you do I have to be silenced?"

Her father falls quiet at that.

After a few moments of tense nothing, he clears his throat. "Fine. Bring me the pictures when you can."

Maeson nods, but felt another thought brewing inside of her. She kisses her fathers hand and leaves with the promise to return in a few hours.

"You're going to do something, aren't you?" Rosie asks as they leave the base and hurry across the bridge that would take them to Maeson's home.

"You bet your sweet gears I am," Maeson replies haughtily. "I'm going to get another picture Mayor Steers. But this time, he's going to know I'm the one taking it."


	6. Phinn Atwood / @trulydear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @trulydear. It may have been co-written by Polyvore users @from-the-garden and/or @miss-union-jack.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to stick around?” Phinn asked for the twentieth time as he walked Millie to the airship docks. “It wouldn’t be much of a hassle for me to stay--”

“Phinn, please,” Millie groaned. “You have a job, you know. Two of them, actually.”

“But I could call in ill should I need to---”

“But you don’t have to,” Millie interrupted with a slight roll of her eyes. “I’ll be fine, okay? It’s just training.”

“I don’t see why training has to go on for several days in a row like this,” he grumbled. Millie just laughed.

“Don’t worry so much,” she scolded jokingly. “I’ll drop by your flat when I’m on my way home to let you know I’m okay.”

Phinn nodded and let out a small sigh. “Just...be safe, okay?”

Millie laughed and rolled her eyes. “Sure bet, Captain!” she practically sang out as she gave him a mock salute. With that, they reached the docks and she ran off to one of the airship for training.

That had been three days ago. Phinn tried his best not to worry, but he couldn’t help it. Worrying was simply what he did whenever Millie stayed at the base on Pi for more than a day. He found himself aimlessly pacing the floor of his flat after work, feeling strangely restless and anxious. He would calm himself by inventing little contraptions in the small kitchen, the only room where he could find even an inkling of tablespace to place his work on. His fingers would fidget a bit as he worked and made himself an ongoing pot of coffee, just to make sure he’d never run out. It was the best he could do to channel his nervous energy toward something, anything, other than pacing and worrying.

When a sudden, swift knock came on his door, Phinn practically shot out of his chair. Millie. It simply had to be Millie. Relief washed over him in waves before he even reached the door, and a wide grin painted itself gladly upon his face. But when he did scramble to the door and fling it open, his smile immediately faded a bit.

On the floor just outside his door was a small envelope, addressed to him in scrolling cursive. It read that it was from his “cousin Lionel,” but Phinn knew where it truly came from. Whenever the resistance had something urgent to get to him, it would come from one “cousin Lionel” off in America, a cousin based upon an inkling of truth. Phinn did have a second cousin once removed named Faye Abinall who had moved to America about twelve years ago, but said cousin had died three years after leaving. Still, at least the lie was drawn from a half-truth. That made it easier to explain on Phinn’s part.

The resistance didn’t send Phinn many letters. He wasn’t exactly on the top of the food chain in the rebellion, though a few of his fellow scientists and teachers contacted him from time to time. He just rarely got formal letters like this, delivered right to his doorstep and in an unfamiliar hand. That was most certainly not the handwriting of any teacher or scientist, Phinn was certain. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

He scooped up the envelope in trembling fingers and retreated into the flat, bolting the door shut behind him. He felt better about reading things like this when he was certain he was alone, or at least, he felt like it. He made his way into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee for his nerves before sitting down at the table and ripping the envelope open haphazardly. He unfolded the letter slowly and read, his face remaining emotionless until he read a few fateful words that caused him to let the letter drop to the floor. He shot to his feet and was rushing to the coat closet before his mind had time to catch up with his feet. He could only think about one thing.

Millie.

Millie had been at Pi. There was no doubt in Phinn’s mind that Millie had been present during the attack, that she had been stuck at resistance headquarters when the world suddenly started to crumble in. She could be terrified and hiding in a corner right now. She could be all alone. She could be hurt, possibly beyond hope of total recovery. She could be…

Phinn didn’t want to think about that. He forced the idea out of his mind with a shake of his head as he pulled his coat on and tied the scarf loosely around his throat. He stuffed the letter in his coat pocket and was out the door in a mere matter of moments, his determined footfalls leading him down the staircase of the building and out into the chilly air. He went straight for his bike, which was chained to a tree just outside the building. He’d avoided learning to drive a car for fear of accidentally driving himself out of the sky, but it didn’t matter, as his flat provided no place for a car, anyway. The bike was just easier, and far more environmentally friendly.

He started toward Pi at a rather sporadic pace, as he would speed up in an attempt to rush but always run out of energy and slow down again. Phinn just kept biking like this, often swerving about to avoid hitting anyone or anything, for quite a while before he started to sweat under his rather bulky coat. When he usually went to Pi, he either biked leisurely or caught a ride with a friend, often Thomas. Sometimes, he’d take an air ship with Millie, as she had connections now and could get them a ride fairly easily. It still felt strange that his little sister had more resources to get them to Pi than he did, but he just shrugged the matter off and let her brag about it to him. If it made her feel important to have more contacts in the resistance than Phinn, then he would let her rub it in all she wanted. She needed to feel important. That was really all Phinn wanted for her. But now…now he didn’t know where exactly she was, what was going on, or if she was even…if she was even…

Phinn shook his head again to suppress the idea, but it didn’t work so well this time. It was there, squelching all logic and effectively shutting down his common sense. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to add three and one right now, not with his mind like this. All he was thinking about was Millie, which caused him to almost bicycle into a tree. He swerved out of the way just in time, but then heard a faintly familiar voice calling out his name.

A car came close to the edge of the road and followed him clumsily as the driver kept calling out for her. At first, he just kept going, almost frightened by the idea that the driver could very well be foe rather than friend. But when the car got close enough to him, he was finally able to identify the voice for certain. He stopped pedaling abruptly, and the car came to a bumpy stop.

“Phinn?” Lydia called again as they both finally stopped to just stare at one another. She was sitting behind the wheel of Thomas’ rather bulky steam car, her dress rumpled on her lap and her hair blowing haphazardly in the light breeze. Phinn need only take one look into her eyes to know exactly what was going on, for in her eyes he saw a reflection of his own fears and emotions. Thomas. Thomas must have been at Pi as well. Without even saying a word, Phinn was certain that they had both communicated exactly what they were thinking and feeling.

“Lydia,” Phinn acknowledged after a long moment. “Going to visit family, I presume?”

Lydia nodded awkwardly as she glanced about to see if anyone was listening. “I’m afraid my cousin is ill,” she explained simply. “I just got word today.”

That confirmed exactly what Phinn has suspected. Thomas most certainly had been at Pi, there was no doubt about that. “The cousin I went to school with?” Phinn asked, realizing suddenly that not mentioning the name of said cousin made the entire thing sound silly. But neither was in the mood for making up names or being all detailed. They were both just scrambling to get to Pi.

“Yes,” Lydia confirmed with a single nod. “Would you like to come with me?” she offered suddenly, with a gesture toward the empty seat next to her. Without another word, Phinn was climbing into the car, the bicycle perched precariously on the back seat. The moment he was fully sitting and the bicycle was at least sort of squished in, Lydia took off again, the car jolting off suddenly and making large zig-zags across the road.

“Don’t mind me asking, but…do you know how to drive?” Phinn asked as he reached out a hand to keep the bicycle from falling out of the car. Lydia just shrugged.

“Of course!” she insisted. “I’ve been driving for…oh…about fifteen minutes now.”

Phinn just shook his head a little. “Well, at least you have more experience than me,” he admitted as he hit the side of the car on a rather sharp turn. Lydia didn’t seem to listen, as her eyes were kept intently on the road.

“Sorry, sir!” Lydia called out as she almost ran another car off the road. “I didn’t see that curb there!” The other driver looked less than pleased, but Lydia just flashed him a sympathetic smile and kept driving.

After a seemingly endless journey of bumps and jagged turns, Lydia pulled the car to a screeching halt. Phinn was relieved to arrive at Pi mostly unscathed and immediately set off toward the base, Lydia following closely behind him. Neither spoke, both too concerned and dreaming up unthinkable possibilities as they crossed their fingers that Millie and Thomas were not among the five dead.

When they did arrive at the base, Phinn took a deep, shaky breath. The base was now nothing but shreds, covered in debris and decay. Where once people had spoken in hushed tones and plotted with maps there were now broken pipes and shards of glass. Where once Phinn had walked with Millie to reach the airship docks there was now nothing but split beams littering the path. Phinn was terrified to even take a step into the destruction, to even make his way to the airship base for fear that he would find Millie there, caught under some piece of metal or covered by the remains of the once glorious base.

Suddenly, Phinn felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around swiftly on one foot and prepared to possibly punch someone with his noodle-like fist, he instead found Nat Catchpole standing behind him, a sullen look on her face. He didn’t know the girl well, but he knew her name and her face. That was enough to relieve him, at least knowing that she was no enemy. “Nobody’s here,” she informed both him and Lydia quietly. “Surprised no one caught you before you got this far, but no one’s here. You shouldn’t even be.”

Phinn let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “Where are they, then?” he murmured, and Nat just motioned off with a nod.

“Various places,” she explained with a small sigh. “Most of them are at a storage building, right at Lambda-Nu Crossing.”

Phinn nodded slowly. “The airship pilots…are they…?”

“Yes, they’re there, as far as I know,” Nat confirmed. “Come on, we can head over right now.”

Without another word, Lydia and Phinn followed after Nat obediently. The entire time, Phinn found his knees shaking, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. By the time they reached the storage house, he was shaking so violently he was afraid he might just collapse. The three all went to the back room, where the survivors of the attack were organized into little clumps of those being treated for wounds and those just standing about aimlessly, bewildered and in shock. Phinn felt himself going lightheaded just seeing that much pain in once room, that much shock and fear. And that’s when he saw Millie, nestled in a corner near Cordelia and a few others he didn’t recognize, looking surprisingly calm and speaking slowly, carefully. He knew her well enough to know that she was terrified, but Millie was always one to be strong for others. She was always one to keep her chin up.

Phinn split up from his small group to rush to Millie, who didn’t even notice him approaching until he had already enveloped her in a huge bear hug. “You’re safe,” he breathed into her hair as he held her close to him, and, for once, Millie didn’t protest the hug. Instead, she hugged him back tightly. “I was worried…I was so worried…”

“I know,” Millie whispered back. “Cordelia got us all here safely the moment she heard screams. We were some of the first ones to arrive.”

“Why didn’t you come home, then?” Phinn demanded softly, his voice cracking a little.

“Safety measures,” Millie explained. “They didn’t want anyone leaving too quickly, and besides, I want to help if I can. There are so many of us who weren’t as lucky as me…” Her voice trailed off, and Phinn just hugged her tighter. When they finally pulled away, he could see a single tear trailing down Millie’s cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“I’m just so glad you’re safe,” Phinn repeated, and Millie let out a sad laugh.

That’s when Jacy ran over to the group, looking both relieved and anxious. She looked around, as if to make sure all of the airship pilots and crews were alright, and then let out a small sigh. She came over to Millie first, wrapping her in a sisterly hug. Phinn chuckled a bit at the fact that Millie was getting so many hugs, as she was never much of a hugger. But on this particular day, she didn’t seem to mind.

Cordelia had been talking to a couple of other people, but she saw both Phinn and Jacy huddled around Millie and made her way over, an exhausted smile on her face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping a good eye on her,” Cordelia assured Phinn with a small nod toward Millie. “I tried to send word to you, but we’re a little low on messengers right now.”

Phinn nodded. “I’d assume so,” he said with a glance around the safe house, which was pretty much filled from wall to wall with the injured.

Cordelia cleared her throat. “Millie, why don’t you go see if they can use any help?” she suggested with a gesture toward a clump of people, all gathered around a few of the wounded. Millie opened her mouth to speak, possibly to question or protest, but then let it close as she accepted her mentor’s orders and went to join the small group. Cordelia turned back to Phinn and Jacy once she was gone. “It’s been insanity for the past few days. Thank goodness most of the younger rebellion members either weren’t anywhere nearby or weren’t in the physical base.” Her eyes darted over to Millie, then over to a group of teenagers talking quietly in a corner. Phinn recognized them as some of Millie’s fellow trainees. “We weren’t in the base proper, thank heavens – just in one of the nearby warehouses.” She turned to Jacy then, an eyebrow raised slightly. “You got here rather quickly,” she remarked suddenly. “I suspect that most everyone else is still just getting the news.”

Jacy nodded, not giving an explanation for how she managed to get there in record time. “Yes, I did what I could to get here as soon as I could,” she said as she glanced nervously around the room. “I didn’t know if my services would be needed or not, but now that I’m here…” She paused and shook her head. “I see how bad everything really is.”

Cordelia nodded approvingly at Jacy. “I’m glad you actually came,” she assured her. “They’re finding a use for every pair of hands we have here. The response has been a bit slower than some of us were expecting,” she admitted with a tired sigh. “I’m starting to fear that Helena’s letter has stirred some people to start burning things in revenge instead of reporting here to help.”

Jacy shook her head. “Revenge? What good could that possibly do us now?” she scoffed, obviously encouraged by Cordelia’s approval of her actions. “People have died, the last thing we need to do is lose more lives.”

A momentary silence settled between the three of them, each searching for what to say and what to leave in the quiet of their minds. Phinn glanced over at Millie, who was helping another woman in bandaging a young man’s foot. He cleared his throat suddenly and lowered his voice, as if he was afraid that Millie might overhear from all the way across the room. “How long do you think the government’s known? How much time do you even think we have before something like this happens again?”

Cordelia took a deep breath. “I’ve heard about ten different opinions on that,” she admitted, her eyes drifting to the floor. After a brief pause, her eyes came back up to meet Jacy’s and then Phinn’s. “Which means that we have approximately no idea.”

Jacy turned to Phinn, a bit of concealed fear lurking in her eyes. “You think that they’ll do something like this again?” she asked quietly, to which Phinn just swallowed a heavy lump in his throat.

“I wouldn’t doubt it for a moment,” he agreed sullenly. “They’re trying to force our hand, trying to get us riled up so that they can paint us as the villains. They won’t stop until they’ve pushed us into a full-on civil war.”

Cordelia closed her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. “Phineas is most likely right. Somehow they managed to find exactly when and where our leaders would be meeting. If they wanted to wipe us out, they would have attacked when we were all together, when they could pick us off like sitting ducks. As it is, most of the people in the base were in charge or responsible for protecting those in charge. They never raided the warehouses or, as far as we can tell, any safe houses on the platform. And if they could find out when we were meeting, I’m sure they could find that out.” She paused, as if to gather her thoughts, before looking between Jacy and Phinn again. “The two of you will hear some very different opinions on this, but here is what I think: they wanted there to be people left. They wanted to put us into chaos, and they wanted to make us angry.”

Jacy looked between the two of them, her brow furrowed. “None of this makes any sense to me,” she muttered. “Why would they want chaos? Why would they want a war? Wouldn’t it best for them just to crush all at once like you said that they could have, and then have it all be over and done with?” Jacy shook her head, obviously just as confused as everyone else. Phinn fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt sleeve in an attempt to stifle his own nerves. “Why are they provoking us like this when they know that we have bad sentiments toward them?” Jacy piped up again, and Phinn looked up at her.

“They must be so convinced they’ll win,” he said softly, his voice barely audible, “convinced their forces are stronger than ours.” He let out a light breath. “They’re toying with us.”

Silence settled between all three of them for a moment, and then Cordelia spoke, her voice shaking slightly. “The two of you are asking the questions everyone should start asking and offering up the ideas everyone should start bringing to the table,” she agreed. “And I don’t have all the answers or particulars. But consider this: a group of rebels begin assaulting the city. We’ll be blamed for the violence, of course. Then the mayor will be blamed for doing such a poor job that he stirred up a riot. The mayor’s forces and ours will burn each other down. So who might be left then, and what do they have to gain in the aftermath? That’s the next question I’d start asking.”

Jacy ran a hand through her hair. “But they attacked us first!” she pointed out, sounding quite distressed. “They can’t just turn things back around on us like that. We have to stop them before this gets out of hand, or at least, anymore more out of hand than it already is…”

With that, Phinn felt a slight tug on his sleeve and turned to see Millie staring up at him with wide eyes. How long had she been there? He wasn’t quite sure, but the look on her face told him she had at least heard some of the conversation.

“Excuse me,” Phinn said with a nod toward Jacy and Cordelia as he stepped away from the conversation to focus on Millie. Cordelia and Jacy nodded in return and went back to talking as Phinn started to walk off, hoping Millie would follow him and not hear whatever the two girls would say next. Luckily, she did. When they were a ways off, Phinn turned back to Millie and sighed slightly.

“So what are we going to do now?” Millie asked him quietly, her eyes searching his for an answer.

“Well, I suppose we’ll go home, and let Mother and Father know we’re---“

“Not that,” Millie cut him off quickly. “I mean…what’s the resistance going to do now?”

Phinn took a deep breath. He wasn’t quite sure how to answer that one, wasn’t quite sure how to comfort Millie. If he had been close by during the attack, he would have felt shaken as well. He wasn’t even there and he felt shaken, but he knew it was worse for Millie. And she was only seventeen, on top of all that. She had only been a part of the rebellion for a few months and suddenly catastrophe had struck. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain and confusion she was going through right now. He pulled her into another hug, still carefully trying to pick out his words.

“Fight,” he told her softly. “We’re going to fight.”


	7. Kara Feurherz / @fashion-queen76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @fashion-queen76.

Kara has waiting for her Informant from the Resistance. But he didnt come. She was worried about him. After two Days she looks in the street for some Person with the symbols of the rebellion/resistance. After she find someone she ask her was happen. The unknown woman ask her, if she didnt have became the letters? Kara has no, because her Informant wasnt come. The young Woman ask for her Name and after Kara telling her, the Woman give her some Letter. Kara was shockt after reading what happens. The young Woman cry a little and ask her what to do now. Kara didnt know, but says to her that we do our work continue. "Because the Gouverment cant stop us". she says. After that meeting Kara was confused and sad about it. And one thought goes trough her mind. Where did the Gouverment knows about the Rebellion & Resistance? To find the headquarters? There must be a Spy in their own rows. Karas fighting spirit was stronger that her fears. She would go on and find the spy or the traitor.


	8. Lady Lydia Stanley / @from-the-garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @from-the-garden. It was possibly co-written by Polyvore user @trulydear.

Lydia knocked on her brother’s front door. It swung open almost immediately, revealing Mr. Edwin, Thomas’s butler, with a hopeful expression on his face. Seeing Lydia, it faded a bit, but he kept his manners and let her in. “Ah, Lady Lydia. Lovely to see you, My Lady.” He greeted her, but something felt off.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Edwin?”

At first, the old butler seemed hesitant to answer, but relented after only a moment’s thought. “Your brother was supposed to be home a bit late the other night because of a meeting at work, but he has yet to arrive home.”

It was a resistance meeting, it had to have been. What on earth could have kept him for so long? “Have there been any messages?” Lydia’s mind was racing, trying to figure out some reason for Thomas’s absence that didn’t end in disaster.

“Oh! I nearly forgot. A chap came by a little over an hour ago and brought this. It’s addressed to you, My Lady.”

A gasp escaped her mouth as she accepted the letter. “Excuse me, Mr. Edwin.” Lydia hurried into the parlor to read the letter. After many encoded messages like this one, Lydia had become quite adept at reading through the code quickly.

With every line she read, the tighter tendrils of dread locked around her heart. Thomas was there. Thomas was on Pi during the attack. Thomas could be dead.

The reality of it all came crashing down on her all at once. People were dead. People were hurt, their leaders were hurt, this wasn’t a game. Her brother, the person Lydia loved most in the world, could very well be bleeding out at that very minute. She needed to get to Pi, now.

Lydia nearly shot out of her seat and into the hall. She could ask Edwin to drive her in Thomas’s steam car… but he couldn’t be allowed to know where the base was.

Lydia supposed she would have to drive herself. The only experience she’d ever had was the time Thomas had tried to show her how his new car worked, only to be chastised by her mother for teaching Lydia 'unladylike conduct’.

“I… I’m going out, be back in a bit!” Lydia called down the hall, hoping that someone would hear her and not begin to worry for her too.

The car’s dashboard was full of all sorts of gadgets, none of which Lydia remembered the names of. She slid Thomas’s key into the slot and turned it. Blessedly, the engine began to run. Guessing at buttons and levers, Lydia pulled out onto the street, accidentally scraping against a light post.

“Oops…” She said to no one in particular. Lydia was probably going too fast across the platforms, but the only thing on her mind was Thomas. Out of the corner of her eye, a figure on a bicycle caught her attention. Only a moment’s notice confirmed that it was Phinn. There was only one place he could be going at that speed and in this direction. Oh, no. Millie must have been on Pi, too.

“Phinn! Phinn!” Lydia called out the window. He didn’t seem to hear her. She sped up, pulling closer to the curb, and earned herself several choice words from other drivers. “I’m terribly sorry! Have a lovely day!” Lydia called, cringing at her own awful driving.

“Phinn!" This time, finally, he must have recognized her voice, and stopped the bike. “Phinn?” Lydia pulled the car to a bit of a screeching halt against the curb. In his eyes, the fear that mirrored her own, she could tell that she’d guessed truthfully. Millie was on Pi. She hoped that he’d understood where she was going too, in the same manner.

“Lydia. Going to visit family, I presume?”

Right. Lydia had almost forgotten where they were. She couldn’t mention Thomas, or Millie, or Pi at all, lest some unfriendly ears be listening in. Lydia nodded, “I’m afraid my cousin is ill. I just got word today.”

Lydia could see that Phinn understood. They had the same goal. “Yes. Would you like to come with me?”

Phinn put his bike in the back and off they sped, literally, towards Pi. Lydia was very proud of herself when they arrived at the base in one piece, more or less. She’d lost Thomas’s rear bumper, but those were replaceable, right?

But while Phinn and Lydia were perhaps in one piece, the base was not. The smoking wreckage of their old sanctuary was just that, and no more. Was Thomas here, buried under all of this destruction?

She was so absorbed in the sight that she hadn’t noticed the arrival of Nat Catchpole. Apparently, all of the survivors had been moved to another base. Nat didn’t know anything about Thomas.

Lydia could hardly breathe the whole way to Lambda-Nu Crossing. She couldn’t imagine walking into that building and finding only the remains of her brother. She couldn’t imagine continuing this life without him. He was her rock, and without him…

Nat lead them into the warehouse, and a room full of people. Lydia couldn’t seem to breathe deep enough, and she could see her hands shaking. Her eyes swept the room, back and forth, finally falling on the form of Thomas, sitting up in a cot in the corner of the room.

“Thomas!!” Lydia cried, stumbling over her dress as she launched herself toward him. At the sound of her voice, Thomas tried to sit up, only to be held back by Dr. Suttler, who was sitting beside him.

“Thomas, oh God!! I thought you were dead!! I thought you were dead!” Lydia knew she was crying, but she didn’t care. She sat on the edge of the cot and flung her arms around her brother.

“Lyds, what are you doing here, you shouldn’t have come!” Thomas embraced her the best that he could while sitting.

“When I arrived at your house for our weekend together, Edwin said that you hadn’t arrived back from your meeting and it had been almost a day, and then I got the letter from Mrs. Massey and it talked about the attack and oh, Thomas, I was terrified, I thought they’d killed you!”

A small smile tugged on Thomas’s lips. “I’m all right. A bit beat up, but all right."

Dr. Suttler addressed Lydia, “He’ll be okay, don’t worry! Unfortunately, this will take time. The bullet entered his right thigh and shattered a part of the bone. According to the other medics, the surgery went well and the bullet was removed. He was grazed in the side and the shoulder as well, but those are healing great! He won’t be able to return home, I’m afraid... He’ll have to stay here for several weeks, perhaps months. We can’t have anyone questioning where he got a limp, now can we?” Lydia shook her head.

“But… how will he do his job if he can’t come home? He has to gather information from my father.”

Dr. Suttler shrugged. “I’m sorry, Lydia, you might want to ask Mrs. Massey about that.” With a sympathetic smile, he stood, moving on to check on another patient. Lydia scooted next to Thomas on the cot, and rested her head on his shoulder. After a minute, Thomas spoke.

“Lyds… You’ll do it.”

“What?”

“You’ll do it. Mrs. Massey talked to me earlier. She said that you have to step up and gather intel on Father. You’re the only other person that he would ever trust to get that close. You’ll have to start showing interest, start talking to him more.” Thomas’s eyes were earnest. He thought she could do this, he believed in her.

“But I’ve never done anything big like that… just little things I’ve heard around the house, things I’ve heard people talk about at galas and parties and such. I can’t… I can’t do what you do.” Lydia bit her lip. Perhaps all of the brave heroes in her stories could do it, but Lydia was just… well, herself.

“I know you can do this, Lyd. You can be just like all of your favorite book characters. You can save the day. The resistance needs that information, especially after all of this disaster.” Thomas waited expectantly, his eyes willing her to accept. Lydia swallowed her fear, allowing herself a daydream of herself, a celebrated hero.

“Well… yes. Yes, I’ll do it. I can do this."


	9. Winnifred Richardson / @moo-moo416

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @moo-moo416.

I stared at the letter in slight disbelief. How could the government, of all people, find out about the Resistance. Half of them wouldn’t know how to find their own hand if someone ask them too.

All I could really think of was the safety of my father. He was currently the only thing I have left right now and being in the Resistance just endangered him greatly.

If the government ever found out about me, they wouldn’t go after me, they would go after the one care about. My father.

I have to protect him at any cost, and that cost is I have to leave. It will most likely break him but it is for his own good.

I pack up the few things I need and leave my father a note. A small tear falls and I quickly wipe it up and head out.

I need to find Phoebe and hopefully from there everything will be well.

It’s unlikely though.


	10. Ambrose Highmore / @chocomicol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @chocomicol. It was possibly co-written with Polyvore user @lightyears-away.

Ambrose dashed around her house, grabbing her weapons and hiding them in different vaults of the house and in the armoury of her airship. She activated the surveillance camera around her house and connected it to the screen on her ship and one in her bedroom. 

She grabbed a hat with a veil and walked out, heading towards the mechanic store, more importantly towards Idris's place. Idris was one of the mechanics in the rebellion, and Ambrose always went to her when she needed someone to fix her airship. After landing in London, she realized that one of her engines were fried. Knocking on the door, the Ambrose waited for the other blonde girl to answer the door.

After what seemed like forever, the door finally opened, revealing Idris. Looking closer, Ambrose could see fellow rebel Forrester James. 

"Ambrose! You're okay! I thought you had been hurt at the attack!" Idris exclaimed. I smiled.

"Thankfully, I was on a expedition at the time. Which is why I'm here, one of my engines is fried. Could you come and fix it?" I asked. 

"Of course, I'll come check on it tomorrow. I'm a mechanic aren't I?" We laughed. After saying goodbye to Idris and Forrester, I lowered my veil and walked back to my house.


	11. Beth de Garcia / @heymisstm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @heymisstm.

The basement of the de Garcia mansion was a vast area. It was almost like a cave – carved walls, no heat, dripping water everywhere. It was quite an unpleasant area of the house, and that is why no one of the de Garcia family ever entered it without specific reasons. Recently, the formally innocent reasons had changed drastically, and the use of the room had increased for several of the more controversial actions that were being carried out.

Like interrogations.

“I know who you work for,” Beth snarled, pacing back and forth in the dimly-lit room. “I know what you do.” She stopped and crossed her arms. “Now, what do you know?”

Her eyes settled once more on the centre of the room. There, tied to the one wooden excuse of a chair she could find down here, was a man. His name was Walter, and she was determined to learn all he had to know. He was almost like a little rat, gathering information on even people of the highest ranking. Information that was invaluable for someone on the road to vengeance.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Walter exclaimed, his thick accent making it almost impossible to understand him.

“Oh, I think you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” she sneered. She walked up to him and crouched in front of him. “You see, Walter, I’m a _very_ powerful woman. I have hands in the pockets of a lot of powerful people. You know what that means?” She traced his jaw gently with her nail, relishing the shiver he gave in reaction. “I can make your life _hell._ I can make sure that your little secret gets out, and you and I both know how they deal with _rats_ in this city.”

She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, eyes watching her. Oh, he _reeked_ of nerves. She nearly had him.

“Now, unless you want me to get the rat-traps set all around the Beta sector, you’re going to tell me _everything_ that you know!” Beth counted silently – _five, four, three, two -_

“The government know there’s a rebellion starting,” Walter gasped out. “They’ve gotten a hold of some documents that the rebel leaders had. I know nothing else, I swear.”

Beth closed her eyes. Just as she thought – they were keeping a tighter leash on the details of their plans and making sure that no information got out. If even the sneakiest of men could only come out with information she already knew, then things were getting worse.

Let’s hope she wouldn’t have to resort to drastic measures.

“Can I go now?” Walter pleaded pathetically. “I need to get home for tea.”

Beth rolled her eyes impatiently. She yanked a blade from her coat and slashed open the ropes. “I’ll be in contact, Walter. Don’t make me have to get you dragged in here again, please. It’s a pure waste of my time.”

He nodded and quickly scampered upstairs. She had no fear of him stealing anything of hers. This wasn’t their first meeting, and she had cemented a lot of the protocols before now.

Locking up the basement, she slowly walked up to ground level, pulling her coat off as she entered the warm living room. She carefully hung it up and adjusted the dogwood blossom brooch on the collar. Then she went over to her desk.

Her desk was the one thing that no one who visited her knew about. Many businessmen have questioned her use of the cold study at the back of the house, when she has a perfectly nice study area in the living room. She made sure they never asked about it on their return visits.

Pulling out the key that she kept on her necklace, she unlocked the top compartment and opened it out, reaching in for a small bundle of papers. The most recent letter she got from Helena was amongst the bundle. She read through it once more and folded it up. Then she ran through a handwritten list of people, crossing out Walter’s name. She had questioned many people ever since she got that letter two weeks ago, and she had learned nothing since she started. No one had any information, and it was frustrating her to no end.

Maybe she should be more worried about the rebellion, and the fact that many officials in their rebel group had barely escaped death, or were still hanging on. But Beth always put herself first, ever since her brother went missing. That wasn’t going to change now.

She just had to keep going. She couldn’t chase any another leads until she knew it was safe to do so. The government seemed to be waking up, and she needed to stay on her toes if she wanted to end this once and for all.

She just had to be patient.

(She was _never_ a patient woman.)


	12. Idris Li / @lightyears-away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @lightyears-away.

There was a loud, insistent knock on my door. I rolled my eyes thinking it was the landlord of my apartment telling me to 'pay my darn rent'. I sigh at the more rigorous knocks and hurriedly get up from my spot on the floor next to the foot of my bed, unsettling some dust that had collected on my metal leg. I straightened my dress so that it covered my leg and most of my foot, made sure my gloves were in place, and opened the door mid-knock.

"Thank God! Idris, I thought you had left!" Exclaimed a disheveled and out of breath Forrester James, who quickly pushed past me into my apartment bedroom. I closed the door, noticing just how disheveled he was. His curly black hair was more messed up than usual and his jacket was folded in odd places like he'd fallen asleep slumped over.

"The resistance has been attacked!" He shout-whispered at me, un crumpling some thin papers out of his jacket.

"I was given these letters to send out to resistance members." He handed me one of the crumpled papers. I scan through it, catching words like 'Platform Pi' and '5 lives lost' along with 'we will fight'.

"...fell asleep at some pub nearby and went straight back to Pi but it has been demolished! I came straight here after that. What are we going to do?!" Forrester was still talking, waving his hands around, running them through his hair and generally pacing around the room. He finally sat down and put his head in his hands.

I walk over to the nightstand on Forrester's left hand side and slide out the drawer containing my handy noise maker. I grab the gun and load in some bullets before strapping it in my belt as a makeshift holster.

"What are you doing?" Forrester asked, getting up and turning me so he could see what I was doing.

"According to Ms. Helena Curtis, five lives have been lost, and if we fight, we will win. So, instead of weeping and doing nothing to avenge these unknown Heroes like you, no offense, let's find these government scumbags and show them who's boss." I reply to his questioning expression. He glares at me first but then his face slowly becomes hopeful. He grabs my hand, giving me butterflies in my stomach and pulls me to the door.

"I knew you were fearless. But you can't fight alone. We should go to the other resistance base and gather more people." He rushes out the door, with me on his heels.


	13. Arthur Burrows / @lunawulftaco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @lunawulftaco.

Arthur trudged through the streets, approaching home after a long tiring day. Not long before, he had been discussing to a friend about a few invention ideas. He flurried up the steps to his study in order to get some paper work in order, when waiting patiently in front of him was a letter in immaculate condition. His teeth locked together, unconsciously, as he furrowed his eyes at the object, and the cogs in his mind began to turn. There was no doubt that the letter was meant for him – his name scrawled across the delicate surface of it. 

In the heat of the moment, he scanned his surroundings. Scrapping the letter of the desk, he flicked it open with his letter opener, and hesitantly read through it. 

Unwilling to accept the information in his hand, in an absent fit of rage, he threw the paper, sending it scattering across on the desk in front of him. He placed a hand on his forehead, as he attempted to recollect his thoughts. 

He didn’t care if the letter fell into the wrong hands, the only thing that crossed his mind were the people involved. The people he cared about, the people he had been working to help. However, he knew that if anyone ever found he was involved, then the resistance they knew and cherished would obliterate and collapse around them. All of this, everything they had been trying to do would cumulate to absolutely nothing. He would be letting down Edward and it would all have been in vain.

Action needed to be taken. They couldn’t just let the resistance crumble at the hands of others – let the people they cared about die for nothing. He wouldn’t let Edward rot in prison for frick all. His mind felt scattered as he tried to fix together the pieces of a plan. But, it resulted in nothing, and the image in his mind crushed to nothing, just like he and the resistance would if they stood there and didn’t do anything. 


	14. Adelaide Jude / @mandylou4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @mandylou4. It was possibly co-written by Polyvore user @tokyo-mocha.

Adelaide was busy writing one of her famous crossed letters when the letter came. She wasn't supposed to directly receive information from the Resistance at her flat. This letter could only contain unhappy news.

Ten minutes later, the letter having been read thrice and burned, Adelaide grabbed her reticule and walked out the door. She had no idea why, but suddenly she had the overwhelming urge to visit the home she had grown up in.

The journey from Gamma to the southernmost point of Omicron was made in an hour, and thankfully she had been able to avoid the few acquaintances she saw. Adelaide was in no mood to flirt with businessmen away from their wives or converse about the benefits of petersham ribbons with the daughters of the wealthy.

Her childhood home was in the poorest area of Omicron, which was home to mainly middle class families. After her grandparents died and Adelaide fled, it had been left to the bank, who had not done much. The garden, which had once been home to the most beautiful roses, was now a thorny mass of dead blooms and choking weeds. Adelaide stood in front of this monument to her past for several minutes, wondering if she should try her key, since the bank had most likely not bothered to change the locks.

It was the whine of an airship that snapped her out of wonderings. She suddenly realized how ridiculous she must look, standing in a dress and cape she would have never been able to afford not so long ago, in front of a home that no longer matched her memories. She repinned a loose strand of blonde hair, turned, and walked back to Gamma.

By the time she'd reached the Central Crossing, Adelaide had her usual smiling countenance, although her mind was still whirling with the emotions she was having trouble dealing with. She needed to remember her job. She was a spy. She couldn't let herself fall to her emotions. The Resistance needed her.

Repeating these words like a mantra in her mind, Adelaide resolved to get back to work. But first, she needed to talk to Phillip.

She let herself into his Gamma flat with the key Phillip had given her, smiling demurely at the neighbor who stared at her curiously as he went to pick up his milk bottles.

"Phillip?" she softly called as she hung her cape on a brass rack. No reply. He must be out.

She'd only been sitting in his parlor long enough to read the first chapter of whatever book he'd left out when she heard the door open.

"Good day, Phillip Jacobs," she said with a smile, quickly noticing what a wreck he looked. That was quite unlike him.

He replied: “And to you too, Adelaide. I hope you haven’t been waiting here long. I had some… business to attend to.”

Choosing her words carefully, Adelaide said, “No, it’s quite alright. Things have been very out of sorts as of late.”

“Yes. May I fix you some tea?”

She gave back an affirmation of yes while making her self comfortable on one of his ornate sofas and watched as he prepared the tea. She couldn't help but frown slightly as she watched him sneak a splash of whiskey into his own cup.

He handed her the tea and warned, "You really shouldn’t drink so much, it isn’t good to cloud the senses.”

He ignored her to her chagrin and quickly knocked back the entire cup. Adelaide shook her head with displeasure. Following the attack on Pi, they all needed a level head, for the government was surely going to start cracking down on their efforts even more.

She decided to change the subject and focus on what was important. "You know the Hazards are planning a gala."

“Are you suggesting we attend together?” He looked surprised.

“Not together-together. I’m sure we both need to be around other ladies and gentlemen that night..." Adelaide made sure to choose her words carefully: “I’m sure there will be Pi served.”

He caught on quickly. “If they were to serve cherry, imagine the disaster.”

The letter had made her paranoid. She responded: “My, yes. Anyone listening to this conversation would think us to be such fools, discussing such trivial things as Pi." She paused. "The milliner on Theta overheard Miss Bingley (who is of course good friends with Miss Elmira Hazard) say while browsing the hats that the Hazards are planning a very special announcement at the gala."

"Oh? Do you think perhaps they will be discussing the events that occurred recently?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about her next words carefully. "Oh, so you heard the rumors about Miss Elmira and Mr. Walter Steers. I really do doubt that they're engaged. They've never seemed that fond of each other in public, and I don't think Chairman Hazard can get hem together, no matter how hard he tries."

They continued conversing in code for quite some time, until Adelaide realized she had left her crossed letter at her flat unfinished and still needed to decide what she was to wear to the Hazard's gala.

He walked her to the door. "Goodbye, Phillip."

He said his own salutations.

With a small smile, she stood on her toes, kissed him, then quickly left the flat.

She was sure she'd left him very confused.


	15. Caroline Marcel / @extraterrestrial-whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @extraterrestrial-whispers.

The rain trickled down the pane in what felt like slow motion. Caroline raced the droplets as they slipped down, not tending to her sewing in her lap. She had snagged her skirt on one of her larger inventions. There was a sewing machine that she had crafted, but that along with all of her other prototypes had been sent to the Resistance headquarters. It was her chance to prove her worth to them and they had yet to respond. She feared she wouldn’t be able to fill the gap that Doctor Jacobi had left.

She looked over to old man. His vacant stare was directed to the window. What he saw, she could never tell. He was strapped into his wheelchair. Without the belts wrapped around his chest, he would tip forward and fall. He hadn’t even the strength to remain sitting up.

Caroline grew tired of sitting and tossed her mending to the corner. She paced along the tile floor of the atrium, waiting for something that she didn’t know yet. An awful sort of feeling was gnawing at her. The kitchen door opened.

“My, Louisa. You scared the daylight out of me.” Her friend’s expression was one of fright. “What? What is it?” She hurried over and Louisa wrapped her fingers around a small envelope.

The stamp on the front pictured a dogwood flower. From the Resistance? She unfolded it gingerly, praying that it wasn’t bad new. It wasn’t, it was worse.

How could someone do so much harm to another human being? Lives were gone in the wind along with all of her work. Everything she had she had sent in. People had died. Her inventions were destroyed. Everything. Gone. The profound sorrow grew from the pit of her stomach to her heart to her throat. It was like getting stabbed. How could all be gone? Just like that?

“Caroline, how long has he been unconscious?”

“He wasn’t a moment ago! I swear. Oh god, please no.” She hurried over. Louisa had already set to pulling his cot out of the bedroom so that he wouldn’t be moved too far. “He’s too heavy to lift when he limp,” Caroline grunted under his weight.

“I’ve got it.” The last thing she needed in that moment was for to show up. It might as well have just started raining molten lava.

“Thank you, Phillip,” Louisa sighed.

“Phillip? Johnson, what do you mean?”

“Johnson?” Both girls looked at him, utterly confused. He wouldn’t make eye contact. Caroline felt sick as she realized what had happened.

“Johnson Jacobi, you’ve been running from us! You change your name but you can’t run from here, can you? How could you lie? What were you thinking?” He stared at her, shook his head, and marched out to the foyer. Louisa hurried after him.

She wasn’t even going to let his betrayal seep into her thoughts. Doctor Jacobi was beyond the point of saving. Caroline took his hand and held on for dear life.

Each minute felt like hours and the hours passed in minutes. She didn’t want this to be the end. The sun had set on their time together. A single lantern on the table flickered, illuminating the old man’s face. Johnson - Phillip - kept his distance and Louisa switched out the wet cloth on his forehead. Nobody touched Caroline.

The Doctor turned his head ever so slowly to her and opened his eyes slightly. “Camilla, I protected her like you said. Caroline is safe.” He was calling her by her mother’s name. Her eyes welled with tears. “Don’t cry dear, she’s beautiful. Just like you in every way… How are you today?” His words were drawled out.

“I’m doing fine,” her voice cracked.

“Very good, dear…” He closed his eyes and took a wavering breath. “I think I must go now... Goodbye, dear.”

“Goodbye,” She whispered. He didn’t speak again. He slipped away so quietly that it didn’t even register with her. He was everything to her. She felt so hollow, the wind could have blown her away.

“Get out,” Johnson muttered.

“What?”

“This is my house now. I said get out Caroline.” The hatred on his face scared her.

“But-”

“Get out!!” He bellowed. She skittered and fell out her chair. The worst part was that she had anticipated this. She grabbed the bag she had packed weeks ago. She got up and couldn’t even find the words to describe the pain she felt.

Louisa wrapped her arm around her and whispered, “You can stay with me.” Caroline nodded, still in shock. She felt his eyes on her as they walked out. Just outside the door, she began to sob.


	16. Louisa Montague / @stories-never-end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @stories-never-end.

The envelope arrived in the morning. Stamped with a dogwood. Louisa had been preparing to go out, visit Caroline or start her shift at the resistance early. Her skills as a doctor were valued more than ever. But the contents of the letter, the shaky handwriting, damaged any other thought except for the horror she felt. “Oh, no…” She gasped. Her hand went to her mouth, and she had to take a moment to breathe. Dr. Massey, she had to get to him. She had to help. There were five dead and many injured, she had to go. Her cloak was thrown over her shoulders and bag grabbed off the table in a heartbeat. She stopped in front of the door. Caroline first. She walked briskly, yet she could not shake the extreme paranoia. Identities were no longer secret. How much longer before more corpses turned up? 

The door to Dr. Jacobi’s opened easily, and she practically slammed into the kitchen. Caroline looked up in confusion, and Louisa shoved the letter into her hands. She turned around, and saw the sickly doctor. He was unconscious. “Caroline, how long has he been unconscious?” Louisa asked, touching the elderly man’s head gently. In a few minutes, they were struggling to get him onto a cot. The door opened again, and Phillip appeared. 

“Thank you, Phillip.” Louisa smiled tiredly. 

“Phillip? Johnson, what do you mean?” Caroline’s look was of utter confusion. Louisa turned to looked at her flirty but still good friend. He gave her a pleading look. Then came Caroline’s accusation, but Louisa had already put the pieces together. Of course. Of course he’d been too good to be true. Phillip turned on his heel and stormed out, and Louisa couldn’t help but follow. 

“Explain.” Louisa demanded. “Whoever you are, tell me. Tell me the truth.” She struggled to keep herself under control. The rain only made his silence worse. “Please.” 

“I’m sorry, Louisa.” Phillip turned around, a coldness to his usually jovial face that she could not comprehend. “I believe you’ve been deceived.” 

“Phillip…” Louisa stepped towards him, but he held his hand up. 

“Johnson. Johnson Jacobi.” Phillip corrected her. “That shrivel of a man outside is my, disgustingly, father.” 

“How dare you?!” Louisa felt blood rush up to her head. The fury she felt for him was unimaginable. She had trusted him. She had laughed and allowed him to flirt with her. He was a traitor. He was a liar. “How dare you run away like that? How dare you leave Caroline to care for him alone? How dare you tell me all of this balderdash for so long?” 

“It was good while it lasted.” Phillip shrugged. “It was never my fault that you decided to prance about with no good airheads.” 

“You mean the ones who are dead?” Louisa hissed. “You are a grown man! You should’ve pushed aside whatever grudge you had against your own father and stayed to help him. Caroline, she’s not yet 20! She loved you.” Louisa shook her head, angry tears creeping up. “She cared for you and all you did was push her aside.” 

“Caroline?” Phillip sneered. “Caroline only took away everything that mattered to me.” Louisa was done with him. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest as if to protect herself. 

“I am going back out to try and make Dr. Jacobi comfortable. After this, I never want to see your face again.” She turned, then paused. “Besides, Caroline is too good for you.” Louisa would not let this little thing hurt her. She was going to leave for the next resistance base as quickly as she could. She had to start taking larger chances and using darker methods. She valued truth and courage, but no doubt the resistance would start needing more subtle methods. Like poison. It wasn’t anything that Louisa couldn’t whip up. 

Phillip only marred her new opinion of him more as he casted Caroline out. Louisa walked out of that house with her friend tucked firmly out of one arm, and a new hardness to her conscience.


	17. Dr. Anil Jhandir / @sakuuya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @sakuuya, aka [sakuuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya), and co-written by Polyvore user @delusionsbybonnie, aka [DelusionsbyBonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie).

Dr. Jhandir flipped the sign in his office window to indicate that he was out, then went upstairs to read the letter, locking the door to his flat behind him. The runner who’d delivered it had indicated that it was both important and top-secret. He slit open the unassuming little envelope, un-cyphered the message it contained, and read it twice over to make sure he understood it. Then he chucked the letter, as well as the envelope it arrived in, into the stove that heated his parlor and watched as the paper burned to ash. Under the circumstances, there was no such thing as being too careful.

Still, it seemed likely that, whatever information the government managed to reclaim, his name was not among it, or he would have been dead before he’d even gotten the letter. He knew how they thought: As a former high-ranking employee, particularly one who’d fooled them for years into thinking he was dead, he would’ve been a priority target. Certainly—here he allowed himself a rueful smile—he would go after himself first in similar circumstances.

He spent a few minutes pacing the crowded confines of the parlor, his mind whirring. The loss of life and resources was highly regrettable, of course. However, when viewed from the proper angle, it also offered tremendous potential, particularly with the senior leadership in such disarray. The rebellion was obviously more meritocratic than the government he had left behind, yet he’d never risen far in their ranks. Well, a clever man could take advantage of the unexpected.

***

He was just about soaked through by the time he got to Louisa Montague’s home on Ξ, his last stop for the night, thank goodness. So far, everyone he’d approached had acquiesced to his plan without much difficulty, and he anticipated that weak little Louisa would be an easy sell too.

“Good evening, Dr. Jhandir. Please come in out of the rain; I was just making some tea,” she said when she opened the door. He hung up his dripping greatcoat and derby and followed her deeper into her house.

“Thank you, Dr. Montague. Tea sounds wonderful,” he replied, genuinely grateful. “I’m not sure I’ll ever grow accustomed to the weather here. I called because of the—Oh, good evening, Miss Marcel.”

For indeed, Caroline Marcel was sitting in Louisa’s small parlour, her eyes downcast and rimmed with red. She barely looked up when he entered the room.

“I see that you have gotten your letters, then.” Dr. Jhandir moved over to Caroline as he continued. “While I agree that the loss of life is a pity, we as physicians need to focus on—”

“It’s not just that,” Caroline said quietly. She accepted a cup of tea from Louisa but did not drink. “Dr. Jacobi…”

It took Dr. Jhandir a moment, as Louisa handed him his own cup, to work out what she meant. He should have expected it; the old man’s health had been failing for a long time.

“I...my condolences, Caroline,” he said. “Dr. Jacobi was a good man.”

For a moment, it seemed that she would start to cry again. Louisa reached down to give her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Please don’t make her dwell on it, doctor,” Louisa said. “Between the attack, Caroline’s father and that weasel Phillip, it’s been a very trying day. I assume this is not a purely social visit?” There was something different about Louisa, some steel in her voice and gaze that he’d never noticed before. Her vagueness about whatever horrible thing Philip had done (was it possible that the little reprobate had sold out the rebellion?) piqued his interest, but there was a time and place to pry, and Louisa’s newfound chilliness brooked no such curiosity.

“You’re right,” he said instead. “I called on business. I think it’s imperative that we restore at least a semblance of normality in the wake of this attack. With all these children being encouraged to throw themselves into the meat grinder, I suspect we’ll have our hands full before too long, and we need to pull together. My residence on Omega will serve as our main medical facility, at least for the time being,” he continued, endeavoring to imply by his tone that the matter was quite settled. “I’ve already spoken with Drs. Darkness and Lewis, and I understand that Dr. Lewis’ brother will also be joining our staff.”

“I agree that our compatriots will need us more than ever,” said Louisa. “Working together seems a wise move. I’ll happily work with you and the others.” She put the slightest of stresses on the word ‘with.’

Dr. Jhandir turned his gaze toward Caroline. “I admit, I had hoped to make this offer under less trying circumstances, but it would be an honor if you would assist us as well, Caroline. Your nursing skills are exemplary.”

“I would be very grateful for that,” the girl replied, without much inflection.

“Excellent. I’ll be glad to have you, and I find that throwing oneself into one’s work helps take one’s mind off of tragedy.” And that was true, though he doubted that Caroline would find, for instance, flaying the skin from a man’s hand as relaxing as he did. “Are you two willing to walk to my residence with me? I told the others we would meet them back there to discuss details.”

After both young ladies agreed, they headed out once more into the rain.

***

Valerie and Hope had beaten Caroline, Louisa, and Dr. Jhandir back to the latter’s flat and were waiting in his office, along with a young man who Dr. Jhandir vaguely recognized as Arthur Lewis and a smattering of other rebellion members with some level of medical acumen. He led his staff—for he was already thinking of them that way—on a quick tour of his office, flat, and safehouse, just to make sure they were all familiar with the space. As they walked, he expanded on his plans.

“As you can see, we’ll need to do rather a lot of work to make this place suitable as more than a satellite facility. Any supplies you can spare would be a great help, and we’ll definitely need more beds. With the wounded from this initial attack, we’ll already be well over capacity, even if we use the couches and my bed. I’ll talk to Cordelia French about getting more equipment, but it won’t be instantaneous, so if you have any strings to pull, do so.

“While you work here, secrecy must be second-most in your thoughts, after of course the welfare of our patients. I understand the desire to repay those government bastards for the harm they’ve perpetrated, but we can do the most good by providing a safe place for our people to recuperate—and that safety can only be maintained as long as the government remains unaware of what we’re doing. Therefore, do nothing that would bring suspicion on this house, lest you put us all, not to mention those in our care, in grave danger.

“What else? Ah, obviously, I don’t have room for you all to stay here. I suspect I’ll barely have room for myself once the wounded start pouring in. Since you’ll need to stay back in your own homes—” for some reason, Caroline looked even more despondent at that “—I think it would be best that we work in shifts once this place is in functioning order. With the understanding, of course, that a crisis may necessitate working when you’re not officially scheduled. I haven’t had time to figure out a rotation...actually, one of you can handle that.

“You have full run of the place; set up whatever you can. I’m going to write a letter to our remaining leadership to inform them of what we’re doing and request transport of their wounded, and then I’m going to start cleaning the basement. We’ll need even that space, I’d wager.”

He didn’t wait for questions. His staff was, if not as bright as him, still quite smart. They would find whatever needed to be done and do it.

***

Dr. Jhandir’s basement was as dusty as the operating room above it was scrupulously clean. He had set it up as an interrogation room, but had never had much call to use it. The rebellion, it turned out, really did use substantially different methods than the government. When he’d joined up, he had assumed that was all propaganda.

Now he was working his way across the basement, which ran the whole length of the duplex, with a broom and duster. This was only the first step: He’d need to go through it again with a scrub brush, not to mention figuring out what to do with some of the more specialized equipment that littered the room.

He heard the door open, and a woman—he couldn’t quite recall her name, but she’d been a nurse at an asylum—called down the stairs, “Dr. Jhandir! There’s a man here to see you!”

He stiffened. Just "a man," no name? It would have made him suspicious under ideal circumstances, and now...there was no way of knowing what information the government had. He selected a small serrated knife from the tray of implements he'd been dusting and secreted it carefully in his trouser pocket.

Without donning his jacket or waistcoat, which he'd removed to save them from the dust, he ascended to the main floor. There was no point in trying to sneak up such creaky stairs. When he reached the top and laid eyes on the intruder, he was so relieved that he burst out laughing.

"Andrew! I was afraid you were a government assassin," he said. "Forgive my appearance; I've been cleaning. Would you like a drink?"

Andrew grinned. "Never mind what you look like, Doc. I'm just glad the Retties didn't get to you. Then who'd buy me drinks? You know I never say no to a nip of the good stuff." He tipped his flat cap politely to the annoyed-looking woman. "Sorry for my rudeness, marm."

"Then by all means, come upstairs," Dr. Jhandir said, leading the way up to his overstuffed parlor. "Make yourself at home; I need to wash up."

In the washroom, he scrubbed the grime from his face and hands and frowned at his reflection in the dingy mirror. His hair was probably a lost cause until he had time for a bath, and the shirt would have to go for dusters.


	18. Andrew O'Rourke / @delusionsbybonnie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user , and co-written by Polyvore users @delusionsbybonnie, aka @sakuuya, aka [sakuuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya). Unlike most chapters in these archives, it completes the scene from the previous chapter.

Andrew dusted down the back of his pants and perched on the edge of a loveseat, hoping he wouldn't leave any grease smears when he stood. Usually, he'd change from his work clothes before visiting his friend the doctor, but after that letter... it had been stuffed under his door, and by the time he'd puzzled through Mrs Curtis's elegant handwriting and phrasing, he hadn't wanted to waste any more time checking on his friend.

Dr Jhandir emerged from an adjoining room and poured two drinks. After passing Andrew the glass of whiskey, he settled into a comfortable armchair and raised his snifter of brandy in salute. “Cheers.”

"Slainte," Andrew replied, doing the same. He took a long drink and finally settled back against the cushions. "So the buggers found us. Damn. That's no kind of news."

Dr Jhandir nodded. "I can't believe the blighters were able to pull it off. It sounds as though the casualties were light enough, but still. I rather expected Spencer and the rest of them would be safely holed up in that base until kingdom come. Have you run into any trouble yet?"

"Aye. It worries me that they found that one. If we've got a traitor, I'll kill him." Andrew looked unusually grim for a moment, then took another swig. "No trouble for me. I'm just a dumb paddy. I've seen more uniforms sniffing around different places, but they haven't found anything. I'm not too worried about anyone but the smugglers."

"I hope they're not hit too hard. You must've noticed all the hubbub here today; I'm trying to turn this place into a real infirmary now that Pi is a no-man's land, and I'll need Cordelia and her friends to move supplies. And actually..."

Dr. Jhandir set down his snifter and steepled his fingers.

"Do you have another enagement tonight? I have an errand—potentially a very dangerous one—that I need carried out. Are you interested? There's no one in this whole damn rebellion I trust more than you."

"Ah hell, Cap'n French!" Andrew looked truly alarmed for a moment. "They better leave her alone if they know what's good for 'em." He took a breath. "I'm your man, Doc, for whatever you need. I wouldn't mind punching in a few faces tonight."

Dr Jhandir reached into his trouser pocket to pull out the letter, but brought out a small serrated knife instead. "This isn't the errand," he explained as he set it on the table beside him. "I grabbed it when I thought you might be an assassin. _This_ is what I need you to deliver. It's a letter detailing this infirmary I'm setting up, asking that wounded be sent here, and offering to send someone up for whoever's too hurt to be moved. I need you to deliver it to Mrs. Spencer-Curtis or another leader who's still in once piece. They're in that warehouse base on the Lambda-Nu Crossing, according to the letter I received."

He handed the letter he'd written over to Andrew. It was a blank envelope, and the seal showed a caduceus rather than any rebellion symbol.

"It's written in code, but not encrypted. If you run into serious trouble, destroy it and relay the message yourself."

Andrew nodded, tucking the envelope into his waistcoat. "It'll be done. I won't come back straightaway, just in case, but I'll see you Saturday night as usual-- or will I, if your place'll be full of wounded? Might not be the best time or place for our usual chinwag."

"Yes, unfortunately, my flat will be crowded, if not overcrowded, for the foreseeable future. We'll have to put our regular engagements on hold—unless, of course, you'd like to go to another pub." The doctor kept his voice level, but couldn't help an embarrassed smile from creeping onto his face. He cleared his throat. "In all seriousness, though, we _should_ rendezvous on Saturday, if simply to make certain that everything's proceeding smoothly. He downed the last of his brandy. "Godspeed, Andrew."

Andrew grinned, looking a bit embarrassed himself. "Aye, we'll try another pub. Maybe one on Sigma? I've got a mate I can ask for recommendations." He tossed back the last swallow of whiskey and stood to shake the doctor's hand. "May the road rise to meet you, Doc, and God save Ireland."


	19. Serafina Strauss / @euphoria-301

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @euphoria-301 and co-written by Polyvore user @delusionsbybonnie, aka [DelusionsbyBonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie).

Serafina learned of the attack on Pi primarily through a letter. She had been on one of her trips and returned to find her aid holding a letter for her. As she opened it, she skimmed through its contents to find it composed entirely in code and upon careful examination, she realized what had happened- the base had been attacked and several had been injured. However, her attention was caught by the fact that Professor Gilbert had been severely injured. The letter explained the fact that the government-sanctioned assassins tried to take them alive.

Normally, she would obsess over the last part, however she was far too tense right now. Therefore, she directed the boy to prepare some Chinese jasmine tea for her as she reached for Aristotle's 'Poetics' in order to calm down. As she sipped her tea, Serafina allowed herself to lean back onto the velvety fabric of her several couches, her eyes skimming over the heavy words of the infamous book.

The base had been attacked. Her comrades had been injured. It was a bad situation of course. However, it had several positive attributes. The government acting on them translated to the fact that they were nervous, which meant that the resistance was moving in the right direction. This was confirmed again by the fact that the assassins wanted to take their targets alive- it was an irregularity, which meant that the government needed information desperately.

"A coin has two sides," she whispered, gentry keeping her half-emptied tea cup down on the table as she closed the book in her palms, placing it on the sofa.

As she stood up, she walked towards the second room. The boy watched her, standing by the kitchen door but he said nothing.

As she entered the second room, her palms tightened around a long, slender sheath and then, several smaller daggers. She would have taken her bow and arrow but it was too large- it would attract too much attention. The light remained switched off. No one was allowed to see her weapons leaving her won eyes, not even the light of the candles.

Serafina stepped out of the room and softly locked the door behind her, walking past the kitchen. The boy hadn't moved. She walked past him as if he were one of her porcelain dolls and left the apartment, walking down the staircase and finally entering the ocean of brainwashed lower-middle class proletariat, carelessly voicing their mundane excitements and joys.

***

Serafina had just returned from a particularly long trip from the German country side. It was almost a month long and she, while should always deny it, was utterly exhausted. The first thing she saw when the boy opened the door for her was him holding a crisp white letter on one of her silver ancient Macedonian trays. As she carefully opened it, skimming through its codded words, Serafina finally reached her room before bluntly collapsing on her bed, the letter falling out of her fingers.

Professor Gilbert was harmed and in quite a bad condition as well.. The government obviously was to blame. He was almost dead but not yet. She didn't see black crows all day after all. If she went there, she would be tempted to cry and she would mock him by making him feel weak and if she stayed here, she would explode of uneasiness. Serafina had to distract herself with something or the other. Experience had taught her that much.

***

Therefore, she stepped out of her apartment building, onto the bustling crowds of platform Omega, absolutely aimless for the first time in her life. Maybe she's watch people- that always cheered her up. The stupid, conditioned and stereotypical lives of people were like a bitter-sweet comedy to her. It worked as a momentary cure for aimlessness, she thought to herself, as she begun to walk left into the sea if strangers.

She swam through the usual crowd of lower-middle class proletarians who excitedly chattered and complained about their personal lives, absolutely unaware that the government had finally made its move by attacking one of the bases of the rebellion. After all, why would they be? Being in the rebellion was a death sentence, and that is exactly why it was so important to be a part of it. The fact that they make a move meant that the rebellion had made the government nervous- they were heading in the right direction. But this was an entirely philosophical thought and the abstractness would be well-received by Professor Gilbert. unfortunately, she couldn't afford to think of him right now.

'appearances are everything'- her foster mother's suffocating voice invaded her thoughts and for once, Serafina agreed with the woman she had lost all respect for a long time ago. She couldn't afford to look weak in any form. She collected porcelain dolls after all, she was not one of them.

And thus, the aimlessness had returned like a Frisbee.

But this aimlessness was short-lived, thankfully. A little behind her, Andrew had emerged onto the grubby street, glancing around warily. He squinted into the gloom at an oncoming figure-- a woman, it looked like, not uniformed, but that didn't mean much. He casually strolled toward her, prepared to take her out and leave her in the nearest alley if he had to. But just as he was about to, he hesitated. He'd seen her before and he was sure of it. As he squinted at her more, it finally struck him- the redhead had to be Serafina Strauss of the rebellion. Well, he hoped she was anyway

"Miss Strauss, is it?" he questioned, as Serafina, who paused only because she knew that voice- it was familiar and in a good way.

Turning around, Serafina studied his face carefully- she knew who he was. He was a part of the resistance, she knew that for sure. But his name... she had never been too good with names.

"turnscrew..," she whispered as her eyes quickly skimmed over his face and body- he was not injured.

"Come again?" Andrew hadn't quite caught what the girl had said, but it didn't sound like his name.

"It's me, O'Rourke. We met at the... ah, botanical lecture." he continued, attempting to conceal his obvious nervousness of the situation- the attack had left far too many people unhinged.

She knew the code, right, he thought to himself. They all knew the code. That, or he was going to sound like a bloody lunatic and that was not the best outcome for anyone and lucky for him, she did.

The very fact that he used code confirmed his identity to her once and for all. Therefore, she allowed her left palm to fall loose by her side discretely, no longer clutching the sheath of her dagger carefully concealed in the fabric of her skirt.

"i know,.. I didn't expect to see you so soon though," she played along.

"Yeah, me neither. Bloody shame about... the professor's illness." She'd understand he meant the raid, he hoped.

Oh well, bit late to worry about all that now, he thought to himself.

"Are you doing anything important right at the moment? I've got an errand to run over on Pi, and... well, you're half a toff, aren't you? If you were with me, it'd look less like some roughneck poking around where he ain't welcome." he continued and almost instantly, Serafina accepted.

Her mind had processed his words quickly and to be honest, it yearned for this. She needed a distraction, she welcomed it. This was perfect.

"You're in luck because I'm as aimless as an ostrich chained to the desert floor," she explained, nodding a little in agreement to his suggestion.

He laughed.

"That's a sight to see, to be sure. Right then," he paused, suddenly unsure. "I'm no toff. Should I offer you my arm? Seeing as how you're a lady, anyway," he explained.

"Good point... Unfortunately, no lady without a man these days," she responded, rolling eyes, her words rivaling the dryness of the Sahara desert she traveled previous year.

It was customary for a woman to be escorted by a man in public, especially if she cared about her social standing. Why? Because women were inferior- they were to be protected and nurtured, like possessions and it was the man's right to possess after all. Such a world sickened her to her core... that's why she hated her mother after all- she accepted everything when Serafina had expected her to stand up for herself.

Now that caught him off guard, That hadn't been what he meant.

"That's not what I meant. Sorry, miss." He held out his arm tentatively, unsure now if she would take it or not.

Upon seeing his reaction, Serafina simply raised an arched eyebrow- her questioning gaze that she apparently had inherited from her birth father, whoever that poor dirt-bag was.

"What did you mean then?" she questioned, curious as she slipped her arm between his, accepting his gesture.

"I just... I'm not a gentleman. I just thought it might look less dodgy if I looked like I was escorting you home, or something." Andrew shrugged. "Anyway, I've seen you fight. Not like I don't think you can take care of yourself," he explained as they began to walk towards their destination.

"and I'm no lady," she responded carelessly, shrugging her shoulders in a light indifference, as they continued to navigate through the endless ocean of brainwashed proles.

"But... you sound like a toff. I don't know anything about you, but if I was going to guess..."he commented, slightly confused by her behavior- she didn't blame him. Most poeple were after all.

"Of course you did.. not that I blame you," she responded in the same, indifferent tone.

"Sorry," Andrew muttered.

They were well away from Omega now, and he fought the urge to pull up his collar against the glances of every passer-by.

Serafina herself underwent a dramatic change in behavior as well. Her body stiffened, her back straightened and she held her head higher. Her eyes narrowed slightly as a proud smirk replaced itself over her neutral expressionless face. This came naturally to her. After all, she was a product of _that_ world, no matter how much she hated to admit that. Normally, she was excellent at concealing such things but today was not that day. The impact of the attack had affected her much more than she would care to admit.

Serafina found this suffocating. All she could smell was sweat, oil and the horribly sweet scent of home made flower-based perfume and oils- it was disgusting. She could hear the vendors advertising their products at the top of their voices and the horrid high-pitched shrieks of women, also known as their laughter. She could see the uniform cheap black material of the men's suits and the footsteps of couples supposedly enjoying their sweet courtship period.

She resisted the urge to curse under her breath. After all, no lady would dare curse.

Andrew of course, noticed the change, glancing down at her with ill-disguised discomfort. This had been his bloody idea, after all. If escorting a lady got Doc's message through, then it was a price worth paying.

"You all right, lass?" Andrew asked softly. "Easy does it. We're halfway there," he added.

The crossing to the next platform was in sight, and so were a pair of uniformed constable- their first obstacle.

"Nothing to see here, you bastards," he muttered, causing Serafina to sharply nudge her elbow into his side.

It was a warning, she thought to herself as she simply rolled her eyes at the constables, smirking proudly at them as she exhibited an aura of saturated pride- exactly the kind she despised.

Being among the poor was easy but being in the midst of the rich was tough- that was the real task. If you stood out, you died and if you blended in, you survived. No one looked twice at the poor- they were the government's propaganda-addicted guinea pigs who couldn't tell the difference between left and right. It was easier to hide here rather than hide in the midst of the people controlling the government obviously.

Although she hated this, she had to do this. Her comrades were hurt and she was unable to defend them. This was the least she could do for them.

"Ouch," he grumbled quietly, but kept his mouth shut.

But it was too late now. It looked like the constables had noticed that the pair intended to use the crossing, and were keeping their eyes on the big redhead. Andrew's adrenaline spiked as the officers moved to block their path.

"Good evening, miss," one of them said as they both tipped their helmets politely. "Sorry to disturb you, but this is just a routine check. All because of those trouble-making rebels, you understand," he explained politely.

Now, Serafina had two ways of dealing with things in life: deceive or kill. At this point, she preferred the first option, it was a little more appropriate for the situation after all. And thus, it began.

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face the constables with a questioning look

"Rebels..?" She echoed confused as her voice instantly turned cold, along with her face.

"You mistake me for a rebel?" She began as her body instantly stiffened, her entire body turning rigid.

"Those stupid rebels ruined my life- my brother lost his life because of them and you dare accuse me of being one of... Them?" She questioned hysterically, on the brink of tears, her body shivering as people around them instantly stopped and began to whisper.

The constable looked mildly panicked.

"So sorry, miss, I meant nothing by it. Just routine, like I said. Please go ahead." The two men stepped out of the way, eager to let the hysterical girl past.

When they were well away, Andrew heaved a sigh of relief. "Nice going, miss. That was a beautiful performance," he commented.

"Some things are better left unsaid," she replied as her body regained her regular poised composure. Her voice was filled with undertones of amusement evident in her voice but never her face. That had to be left emotionless after all.

"Aye, true enough." He smiled.

They were nearly there, just a few streets further to the warehouse on the crossing.

Then he could get rid of this bloody letter that seemed to be burning a hole in his waistcoat. He knew it was only his paranoia, but it seemed as if everyone they passed was staring straight through the worn fabric, seeing exactly what he was hiding and how dangerous it might be.

Andrew glanced around and ducked into an alley, pulling his companion with him. Halfway down the alley was a nondescript door, and a small control panel beside it. Andrew flipped the metal cover open and pressed what looked like a typewriter key marked with a phonograph horn.

"Delivery of flowers for Professor Oak."

A few moments later, the door opened a crack, and a woman's green eye peered cautiously out at them. "I'll receive the delivery," she said crisply.

Andrew pulled the slightly wrinkled envelope from his waistcoat. "The doctor's compliments to Professor Helen Oak."

"Thank you. I'll make sure she gets it. No need to wait for a reply." The door snapped shut, and Andrew smiled crookedly.

"Well, that's done. Now to get back to Omega with the same good luck!" he commented, clearly happy to get the letter off him.

"Luck is a railroad crossing," she responded indifferently as she followed him out of the alley as they embarked on their journey back to platform omega.

Andrew looked down at her, puzzled.

"A railroad crossing? What d'you mean by that?"

"Luck is a railroad crossing. You need to make it in time or else you die," she responded in the same tone.

It wasn't anything new that people failed to understand her analogies- most people didn't understand them. She wasn't bothered by it though.

"Oh! That makes sense." Andrew nodded slowly. "That's... very clever, actually. Did you think it up yourself?" he asked curiously.

"of course," she responded, quite confused and a little insulted that he'd asked that.

Who else would think of that, she thought to herself. She was the only person who inhibited her mind- no one else resided there for sure... despite other claims of course.

"Sorry, I just.. didn't know if you'd heard it someplace. My brother quotes a lot of things." Andrew wasn't sure if he'd offended her. He hoped he hadn't. She was growing on him, prickly and strange as she was.

"... I don't quote things," she responded after a long pause, contemplating his words.

It often sounded as if she did, but Serafina didn't quote things. She simply said whatever was on her mind without a filter. That's why they often sounded like quotes. But they really weren't.

"I just vomit whatever is in my mind," she explained.

"Oh. Well, you're a smart girl then." he commented, smiling briefly at her before glancing ahead.

They were approaching the same crossing where the guards had given them trouble, and it looked like the ones Miss Strauss had intimidated were gone, replaced by a pair of bulky, no-nonsense men in helmets and breastplates. Andrew tried to look as innocuous as possible, just a man escorting a young lady home, but his shoulders were tense nonetheless. Unfortunately, his companion had alternate plans.

An amused grin appeared across Serafina's face as her cool, calm demeanor was instantly replaced by a child-like excitement as her eyes widened at the sight of a possible fight.

How long had it been since she had fought again? Maybe... a week or two before? Who knew, who cared. It wasn't as if she lost anyway. Fighting was fun and if her mother had heard that, she would be subject to a long lecture on the outdated 'virtues of a woman'.

"Looks like today is a good day after all," she whispered to Andrew, who simply nodded, as she discretely cracked her knuckles, preparing for the fight- it was the only way they would be able to advance.

If it was up to her, a more discrete location would be ideal.. but well.. when life gave you lemons, a lemon tart and some raspberry tea was ideal for a tea-time snack. And Serafina hadn't had her tea yet.

"Careful of that ba- that fellow on the left. I've run into him before. Get in close before they can get either their clubs or their whistles."

The constables kept a careful eye on the pair as they approached. "Identification please?" one asked officiously.

"Easy there, friend," Andrew said, sliding his hand into his pocket. "Just heading back home to Chi." His fingers closed around the brass knuckles he carried, and he dropped Miss Strauss's arm to reach into his other pocket, feigning searching for the requested papers.

"Chi? And what were you doing up this far then?" the man demanded, looking suspicious. His companion, the one Andrew knew was trouble, had slipped his baton from its place on his belt and held it ready.

"Just visiting me aunt Rose. The young lady is me cousin Mary." Both sets of brass knuckles firmly in place on his fists, he glanced at the girl. "Not sure where me papers are. Look, we don't want trouble, and her ma will give me hell if I don't get her home soon."

While Serafina nodded, it was quite easy to tell that she really did want to fight. At this point, every bone in her body was aching to move once again- her fingers begged her to clutch a dagger and bury it deeply in the flesh of the guards. After all, blood was almost euphoric too her- one of her many secrets that she would never let anyone know- they already thought she was insane enough anyway.

But, this was not the right situation to do so. Had she been alone, the guards would be lying dead by now. However, her maturity and restraint showed as she was mindful of Andrew's presence. Her recklessness would never be the cause of someone else's misfortune- especially if that person was her comrade, which Andrew clearly was.

So, she played along.

"Yes officer..," Serafina began softly, her eyes shyly fixed to the ground, offering the officers a small, shy smile.

"It was my aunt's birthday today so we thought that we'd go surprise her.. she's very old you know," she added as the guards instantly turned their attention to her.

For once, she thanked her foolish mother- "women were delicate in a man's world, like a dandelion. They had to be preserved and protected, otherwise they could so easily be blown away". It was disgusting, but the truth often was.

Unfortunately, Serafina had never liked dandelions. After all, poison ivys were so much more suitable.

"Very admirable, miss, but we still need to see your identification," the first constable said firmly.

"Right you are, sir," Andrew said, catching the girl's eye and nodding slightly. Oh well. They'd gotten there without a fight, but truth to tell, he was looking forward to this. "Oh, here's mine. Found 'em." As the first constable's head turned toward him, he pulled both hands out of his pockets and slammed a brass-clad fist into the man's nose. As the officer reeled back, clutching his face, Andrew dove for the second constable, hoping he was moving fast enough to keep him from reaching his whistle and alerting every other person within earshot.

As soon as he asked, Serafina's fingers tightened around the sheath as Andrew punched one of the officers.

Capitalizing on the shock, Serafina swiftly grabbed the second officer and drove the dagger deep into his side, kicking his knee sharply, making him fall to the ground unconscious.

At this point, it was quite obvious that everyone around them had stopped in stock, whispering and pointing at the rather violent sight. That's why she hated an audience - she was not quite ready to give a performance this early in the day. However, the situation didn't give her much of a choice.

A loud shriek was heard all of a sudden as Serafina's body began to shake, blood all over her clothes, pointing at the sight of the dead officer.

"He... Michael! Michael he's dead!" She shrieked, her body tremoring with shock as she addressed Andrew.

Once again, all that lying and pretending with her parents had helped. It would only be more suspicious if they started the fight visibly... Which they did. The resistance had already taken a major hit. It really didn't need another one, she thought to herself before she felt Andrew's rough palms grab her arm, dragging her behind him.

He turned down one street, then into a back alley between a cobbler and a tavern. There was a structure halfway down it, part of the supports of the city, and on a panel someone had painted a dogwood flower and fiddled with the panel on the exact opposite side of the metal construction, finally pulling open a small doorway.

As soon as they were out of sight, she quickly snapped her arm away from him as she ran after him into the small dark passage way. "Come on!" he said urgently before disappearing inside.

"What did you have to cause a scene for? Screamin' like that, it's a wonder there weren't any more coppers closer," he demanded as he led them away from the entrance, waiting until their voices wouldn't be heard.

"What do you think would have happened if we had just left? One officer dear and the other one unconscious?" She questioned, wiping the blood from her dagger using one of her trusty rags. "Someone in that crowd would surely tell someone- a relative, a friend, a spouse- that person would tell someone else until the government would somehow pick it up and obviously they aren't entirely stupid. Considering the resistance is already weak after, they would clearly suspect us and come after us," she explained, pausing to discard the bloody rag as she placed the dagger in it's sheath again. "Besides, our faces were exposed you know- if they know who we are, they can find us, which isn't too good for the resistance."

"Now,” she continued, concealing the dagger between the future folds of her clothes again, “all people recall is that corrupt officers assaulted a pair of innocent cousins, attempting to kill the female and one killed himself when he was found out. This is pretty standard and therefore, no one will pay anymore attention to it and the other officer will be held responsible for his partner's actions. No other officer would have come to help anyway- it was too crowded, they would avoid problems. Such officers are usually not present in crowded areas, the officers we encountered first are more likely. The fact that these officers were even there means that we stood out and caught their attention. We needed to blend back in," she concluded.

"Are you daft?" Andrew demanded. "Maybe they'd believe that from a lily-white English girl, but not from an Irishman. I'm not goin' back out there," he stated stubbornly.

"Now you're the one who's an idiot," Serafina responded rolling her eyes at his stubbornness, whcih she was a little annoyed with evidently. "The government just attacked our base. You want to stick your nose up and run around provoking them now? We need to stay calm and keep our heads down. We can't draw attention to ourselves right now and if we do, we endanger the entire resistance. You want to be stupid enough to do that?" She questioned dryly.

Why was he being such a buffalo?

"It's too bloody late to not draw attention to ourselves. You just killed a man! What are you going to do now, go back out there and explain to the bloody mob that it was all the constables' fault, or just a bloody misunderstandin'? You're welcome to, but I-- this isn't my first run-in with the coppers, d'you understand that? I don't want to get any closer to them than I have to. If you want to go back out there, you're bloody welcome to, but I'm not," he stated again.

At this point, she was just being unreasonable to him and the sooner she'd admit that she was wrong, the better off both of them would clearly be.

"Oh no no.. I didn't kill anyone. I am a woman you see, women can't do any wrong because they are not allowed to think for themselves," she explained, dryly.

"Besides... knocking one of them unconscious is far worse than killing one of them. When the fool wakes up, he'll know our faces but the dead can not speak." she continued, rolling her eyes in the darkness, explaining the very obvious to him.

"No one cares what happened, people die here all the time and to be honest, no one likes the cops any way. All that matters is that this shouldn't go back to the government and it won't- no one knows what happened so how can they possibly narrate it?" she asked rhetorically.

Andrew took a deep breath, finally giving in to her arguments. He still thought that she was wrong, but well.. it was what it was. Nothing could change that. It wasn't as if he was going to win against her anyway and it would probably save both of them a lot of significant time. After all, what good would come out of both of them arguing in a dark panel like this?

"All right. Nobody's going to weep for him. What exactly are you suggestin' we do now? You're still covered in blood," he asked,slightly exhausted at this point due to the rather 'exciting' events of the day.

"Said who?" Serafina questioned as she tore off the layer of her blouse, only to reveal another thick blouse underneath it. Her madness always did have a method- several layers for such purposes. She looked pristine clean and no one would ever think of tying her to that incident.

The one good thing about London society was that it not all that is restrictive in terms of clothing. Of course, that was only if you were not surrounded by gold, money, and the other suffocating elements of high-society. That was pretty much why she could get away with wearing random patches of cloth in the most uncoordinated ways possible, and still not have people spare her more than a single glance. It was oddly liberating and she would always have to thank her foster father for that.

She still recalled the day he banished her from her own family and home, clear as yesterday- it was the single most useful thing he had ever done for her in the course of her entire life. His face had twisted in sickening amusement- and because of that face, she would never let Professor Gilbert's death be in vain. She joined the resistance because of him and no matter what happened, she would not rest until the day she saw her foster father and his little council of idiots was finally brought down and laid to rest once and for all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Andrew's rather alarmed voice.

"What are you-- you're not takin' your clothes off, are you?" he questioned, not knowing how to react to the sound of cloth tearing. He was immensely glad that it was dark so he couldn't see just what impropriety she was committing.

"No..? Why would you think so?" she asked, slightly confused- almost everyone she worked with had the same reaction at first. She really had to figure out why people reacted in such a alarmed way.

"I can't see what you're doin', you know. We can get out of the area through this tunnel, and get back to Omega this way. You don't have to take any of your clothes off." he responded, trying to sound more composed as he attempted to convince her not to take her clothes off.

This situation had slowly become a lot more uncomfortable for him.

"My clothes are on, don't worry," she responded dryly, rolling her eyes.

"Now, lets get out of here... The stench is starting to make me nauseous," she continued, retracing their steps towards the door.

"Fine, fine." Andrew pushed the panel open carefully, and glanced around before emerging. He extended a hand to the girl, helping her out before carefully replacing the panel.

As soon as Andrew opened the door, a breath of fresh air and momentary blinding light poured through the narrow entrance. Soon enough, the familiar chaos and smoke entered through the door as she began to walk out of the door onto the platform.

"What now? Just... stroll on back to Omega like no one's the wiser?" he questioned.

"You got a better plan?" Serafina asked dryly as she stepped out of the door.

"Aye. Go through the bloody tunnel to the East Cantry and get back to bloody Omega," Andrew muttered, following her back out toward the street.

Serafina simply nodded curtly before blending into the crowded streets once again. As she suspected, no one bothered to spare her a second look, absolutely oblivious and involved in their petty, government brain washed lives.


	20. Bea Hood / @desertdiamonddiva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @desertdiamonddiva.

One stormy blistery night in London, Bea was doing her job, beatin some crook up in an alley way by the Liquor Shop downtown when her twin brother inturrupted with a message.

" Hey sis got a letter for you" said Jack.

" Bloody heck Jack! what did i tell you about inturrupting my buisness?!" she yelled as she punched the crook even harder.

"Oh ya right cause I always listen to what you tell me to do" he snorted as he gave her the letter. "I'll see you back at home sis." and walked out of the alley. Bea knocked the guy unconscious.. just for a bit as she read the letter and counldn't believe that so many of the leaders of the Rebellion were injured and almost everything was lost.. she was furious at whoever had the nerve to do this. "This is war" she thought to herself. She started to plot her revenge on these crooks.. her sheming and vandalism was about to reach a whole new level.

Mission: Find out what she could from the government crooks she had control of and go find some more and report it back to the Rebellion leaders.. or whoever is in charge now.


	21. Dr. Hope Darkness / @skyfalll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @skyfalll.

When it learned he had mixed feelings. I was upset and scared. Especially when she learned who was there. When she found out immediately went to Dr. Johandir ask what is potřebab, but soon changed her mind and went to the wounded in order to help out.

When she learned that Bart Spencer is doing very badly and could not handle crossing she decided that she was going there to find out how serious it is. To help married Valerie Lewis tried to help me. When we got there it looked disastrously around ještědohořívali flames and she and Valerie, we immediately went to find Bart Spencer.

When we found him he was in a sorry state. We immediately went to work to save him. When he was finally stabilized at least somehow we found other people to help us to transport him to the infirmary so we can fully recover.


	22. Moira Wanderly / @nyssa-fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @nyssa-fire.

Loud banging woke me up on the day my world collapsed on for the second time since my father died. It was Aunt Nic’s turn to sleep in the bed, so I was out on the lumpy cot in the main room of our tiny flat. I groaned out loud as I got up to answer the door. My scowl deepened once I saw Grover’s wrinkled face in the peephole. I quickly ushered him inside so his harsh knocking wouldn’t wake Nicolette. Though Grover was never the type of person to be considered “right,” I could tell that something was more wrong than usual with him. Before I could say anything, he thrust an envelope at me. I recognized the handwriting as Helena Spencer-Curtis’. ‘Moira Wanderly’ was written in Helena’s neat print, but it was shaky and the ink wasn’t coated evenly. This was written hurriedly and nervous. I looked again at Grover, who was grinding his teeth and wringing his fingers. I felt a sinking in my gut.

I opened the envelop, finding a coded letter. As I picked out the meaning with ease, I felt myself starting to shake. When I learned that the Base was attacked, my first thought was fear. How could this happen? We thought we were so secure…My second thought was a terrible rage. How dare this happen! How dare these bags of rat feces do this to us! Instead of trembling in horror, I shook with the effort of not clawing out of own palms. I can’t imagine how the families of the deceased feel. My aunt is the most important person in my life, and I knew that if she died in a vicious act of cruelty, I would raze this whole city to the ground in retribution for her life.

I wanted to set this world on fire now, but I settled on turning and kicking the crumbling wall next to me. My foot just made a hole, which made me angrier. I sucked in a ragged breath and somehow got a glance of myself in the grimy mirror above the fire place. I looked this hell. My dark hair was tangled and messy from the night, my eyes were wild and alight with a mad glow. An angry red blush overtook my cheeks, and my bottom lip was bleeding. I must of bit it without noticing. I spit the blood at my feet.

But raging and raving in anger wasn’t going to solve anything. I needed to do something. Last night, I was so tired that I fell asleep in my clothes, so I didn’t need to waste time getting dressed. I shoved my large feet into my worn leather boots, and wrapped my hair in a threadbare scrap of fabric.

I nodded at Grover, and together, we made our way to the new makeshift base. With every stomping stride, my resolve deepened. This was an act of war, and I would turn myself into a soldier if need be. It was early in the morning, and the sun had just barely risen. No one was up yet, and shortly, Grover and I made it to the crossing between Lambda and Nu.

Once we passed the security tests and were finally in, I relaxed only slightly. The familiar face of Daphne Massey greeted me. She gave me a grim, humorless smile and squeezed my shoulder. “Moira, Grover, welcome. Grover, you’re needed for heavy lifting. Report to Frank Deller,” I didn’t recognize the name, but Old Mad Grover seemed to, because he nodded jerkily without meeting Mrs. Massey’s eyes, and left us.

“Moira, I need you. This attack was carried out by Ambrose Lynch and his daughter. Lynch has an apprentice that also was involved, Davis Heaton. I have people working on getting information on Heaton, but I need strategy to get him to cooperate.” My hands slowed their shaking. This is where I belonged; in the heat of the Resistance, using my mind to strategize. I was glad that Daphne trusted me enough with this. I was a mixture of strategist, thief, con-woman, and even spy, but I just helped when I was needed. But to be asked specifically for my input made me feel like I was useful, like I could make a difference.

I let Daphne Massey prep me as my mind started working rapidly. I was a sparking wildfire of rage when I first heard of the attack, but now I was a contained match, waiting until the time was right to set this world ablaze.


	23. Regina Godwin / @skylarthebichonpuppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @skylarthebichonpuppy.

“Regina Godwin.” some woman in the front of the room calls out.

“Yes.” I say walking up. 

“My apologies, my lady but the only reason I didn’t use your title is so that those of us distrusting nobelity wouldn’t just stare at us. So I wanted to give you this letter in person because this concerns you as Mayor Steers may know you are a rebel now.”

“How?” 

“Read the letter to find out.” 

The letter was from a rebel from the base on Pi saying they had recently attacked. The government found them and killed other operatives and took important files. 

“What should I do?” 

“The rest of the rebellion is recommending that you come to the base more often than you normally do to insure your protection.” 

“Alright.”

“Regina also here is your first mission as an undercover spy.” She hands me a packet of papers. 

“Thank you.” I say and curtsy.

My job as an undercover spy is to get information as secretly as possible from family friends high up in the LITA government. During this whole rebellion the one thing I need to stay focused on is keeping myself and my family safe. 

I start plotting I remember my parents saying that Father is going down to Kent this week with the Steers I believe it is because Lord Mayor wants Walter to see how parliament works. I need to go with them, a good excuse. I start thinking…


	24. Evangeline Monroe / @cheshirehatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @cheshirehatter.

Evangeline Monroe was sitting in her favorite chair at the family mansion, writing a letter to her sister, Peony. The 22-year old was trying to find the right words to answer all of her younger sister's questions. Peony had written to Evangeline four days after the future Grand Duchess left Ivoryhelm. All she knew was what Evangeline vaguely explained in her letter before leaving home. Evangeline said she needed some time to herself and that she would be staying in the family estate two platforms away from Ivoryhelm. She promised she would be safe, that she would write, and continue to be a member of high society by going to any events and such. She just left out the part of joining the Resistance.

Peony was asking so many questions, questions Evangeline didn't have any idea how to answer. How do you simply explain to the sister that you love that you're only half-related to her and that you're the result of an affair that your mother had with a government assassin? Not something one simply writes about in a letter. Struggling to find the right words, Evangeline was pulled out of her writer's block by a knock on the front door. When the Duchess opened the door, there was no one there, just a letter on the doormat. She picked up the envelope and examined it. Its outer appearance had a few specks of dirt here and there and "My Darling Girl..." was written on the front in elaborately curvy script. Immediately after reading the front, Evangeline knew it was from the Resistance. She hurried back inside the mansion, locking the door behind her. She ripped open the envelope and hastily took out and read Helena's letter.

Evangeline could feel the color drain from her face as she read about the attack on Platform Pi that occurred two days prior.

The destruction of information and supplies.

All of those people injured and dying.

"We are not a secret anymore."

Evangeline's heart was pumping furiously with anger, but then her heart stopped when she saw HIS name in Helena's letter.

"The confirmed participation of troops in government uniforms - as well as that of government assassin Ambrose Lynch, his daughter Lenora, and his apprentice Davis Heaton - has led us to believe that the Lord Mayor and the city board have everything to do with this attack."

Ambrose Lynch. Her biological father that doesn't know she even exists.

"Of course he's involved with this," Evangeline said to herself, "but this is the first I'm hearing about any Lenora. Does she know about her father and my mother? Oh, never mind. I can't focus on that at a time like this. I have to get to Platform Pi."

Pi was about a platform and a half away from the manor and Evangeline made it to the base by sunset. The base was a complete wreckage. Burnt scraps of paper littered the grounds and several doctors were tending to the wounded. Evangeline was able to discover from a medical assistant that Helena was with a severely wounded Professor Gilbert and her nearly dead brother Bart in the thankfully untouched small home of a resistance sympathizer in a far corner of Pi. She was also able to overhear that there would be a meeting with the rest of the rebellion leaders at the Lamda-Nu Crossing in a few days in order for everyone to get new orders. Not wanting to hunt down Helena and intrude, Evangeline decided she would head down to the Lamda-Nu Crossing in the morning. It was getting dark rather quickly and the Duchess just wanted to fall asleep, hoping everything would be a cruel dream.

When back at her family's manor, Evangeline locked the front door behind her and just screamed. All of the emotions that had been boiling up inside her all day finally became too much for her to contain inside. She held the belief of punishing the guilty as one of her top values and she believed the government needed to be knocked down a peg after what happened on Pi.

Then she realized she had just the means to pack that punch. Her mother had sent her a letter, reminding her about the Hazards' upcoming magnificent party that all of the Monroes were invited to. It would take place in little over a week after the attack and the Hazards claimed to have good news to share with everyone.

"This party was planned months in advance," Evangeline realized, "so the attack on Pi must have been planned for a long time."

Evangeline's main job in the Resistance was to gain intel due to her high-standing position in society. This party would be the perfect opportunity to gain information that would lead to the government's downfall.


	25. Jacy Daniels / @miss-union-jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @miss-union-jack.

I received a letter from Mrs. Helena Spencer-Curtis earlier this morning, detailing an attack on the main Resistance base in the Pi district. Clearly the situation is quite serious, and while I've never had the privilege of meeting Mrs Spencer-Curtis directly, I believed every word that she wrote. Though I knew that it was foolish of me, I knew that I had to do something about it.

I'm not the type to take to the streets in protest, I seldom pick up a gun unless I must, and I see no point in doing anything to expose myself to those who would wish to harm me (which is pretty much everyone now). A normal person might feel as though they should do nothing for the time being and await further instructions, but I know that I am far from normal. I felt a very strong urge to get to Pi as soon as possible and see what I could do to help. I was aware that I would probably be brushed aside by what leaders of the Resistance remained, but I knew that it was worth a try to travel to Pi anyway.

So, as quickly as I could, I began to seek out someone who would be willing to give me an inexpensive lift. It didn't take me long to find someone. A man not much older than myself who never bothered to introduce himself, but said that he would be willing to take me to Pi for eighty pounds. He told me that he had a small ship, small enough that he didn't have a crew, but rather, he did all of the mechanic work and piloting himself. I'm usually the one doing the flying, so I knew that it would be hard to simply sit and watch.

We headed towards his ship quickly, and he led me inside. There was not conversation between us, for my head was elsewhere, at least, until he felt the need to speak to me.

"Why do you want to get to Pi anyway?" he asked me, "Haven't you heard? The whole place is pure chaos. The government finally gave those damn rebels what they've been asking for. Hopefully we won't be hearing any more of them any time soon."

The way that he was talking about my people made me angry of course, but his complete lack of sympathy for fellow humans who had died, or had been injured angered me most of all. Did he really hate members of the rebellion so much that he truly did not care that lives had been lost in the attacks? I refused to respond to him, but my disdain must have showed on my face, because he spoke again, saying, "You never answered my question, you know. Why do you want to go to Pi, girly?"

Something in his voice was much more sinister this time, much more suspicious, but I did not waver as I quickly thought of a lie. "If you must know, I have family living in the Pi district, sir," I told him, "I fear that some of them may have been harmed in the attacks, but I have no way of knowing until I go there and see for myself."

My delivery was firm and convincing, but to my surprise, he didn't seem to buy my lie. "Family in the Pi district, huh? I'd say that you look a bit better off than the scum of the earth that lives there," he said to me, his rudeness astounding to me as he looked me up and down, eyeing my golden locket in particular.

He was silent for a moment before a small smirk spread across his face. "I think that you're lying to me..." he said slyly, "Would you like to tell me who you are, and what you really want to do in the Pi district?"

He watched me, watching to see my reaction, and I must say that I panicked a little bit on the inside. I couldn't tell him the real reason that I needed to get to Pi, because I knew for certain that he would kill me. After all, he already had shown his clear hatred of rebels. I knew that if I tried to lie again, or insist that my previous lie was in fact the truth, my internal panic would make me falter.

However, before I could think of anything to say, my panic took over my mind and my actions. I swiftly grabbed a wrench that was for some reason discarded on the floor and hit him in the side of the head with it. He fell to the ground, too slow to react and out cold. I gasped, surprised with myself for what I had just done, but by no means disappointed.

I grabbed him by his ankles and dragged him down the hall, tying his wrists and ankles together with some rope and leaving him in the engine room. With that, I proceeded to the cockpit and started the ship, knowing that now I would simply have to fly myself to Pi. So, I suppose you could say that today, I hijacked my very first ship. Although, as I landed at the docks, I felt a little guilty about everything that I had done, and ended up leaving the eighty pounds on the console anyway. So much for being rebellious. Oh well, I suppose being rebellious does not mean also being rude.

_Now that I am here, I know that I must get to headquarters as quickly as possible, and I only hope that my entire trip has not all been for naught._


	26. Joey Daniels / @thereal-linh-cinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @thereal-linh-cinder.

Joey's paints clinked as the jars bumped against each other in the wire basket, the noise mixed with the sound of the brushes sounding like a chorus of xylophones. She hummed a tune to go with it, before a paper fluttering in the wind interrupted her.

Curious, she followed it, awkwardly jogging after it as to not spill her paints. She set the basket down and ran to a storm drain, where it had gotten stuck on the pavement for a moment. She snatched it before it could go any further and read it.

A letter.

About the rebellion.

She gasped and read it again, taking in the words.

She hadn’t found it by mistake.

Her paint jars clinked. She whipped around to see someone messing with the basket. "Hey!" she shouted, running back. "Shoo!" she batted them away and grabbed the basket, counting the brushes. She frowned and held out her hand for the missing one. She put it back and the jar, muttered thanks, and walked off; reading the letter once more before rushing off to find this so called "base".


	27. Rebecca Tyler / @lunaofthemiste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @lunaofthemiste.

Rebecca reread the letter, a frown appearing on her porcelain face. She couldn’t fathom how this had happened, since the government ‘technically’ had no idea the rebellion existed. However, despite the fact that she did not like the situation they were in, she would have to deal with it.

She returned the letter to a small book marked with an acorn and dogwood blossoms she used to store other resistance matters in. Although it wasn’t the most secure place to keep the letter, it would have to do until the fireplace in her bedroom would be put on. She was planning to burn all her letters, in the fear that she would be found out. Although the letter stated that most of the papers were burned, it did mention that a few papers were missing. This worried Rebecca, and the reality of the resistance was starting to come to light.

She had joined as a way to get back at the government- a sort of way to make up for Oscar’s death. However, with this first attack, things were starting to get real, and Rebecca was slowly realizing what she had gotten herself into.

Sighing, she stood up and tucked the book away in a hidden spot, conveniently blocked by a chair. She knew she would have to draft up a response sooner or later, but the more pressing matter was what she was going to do next. The resistance had lost all their information, and she hadn’t received any orders, so the next logical move was to gather more.

“But from where?” Rebecca wondered aloud, pacing. The once friendly walls of her room now felt like prison bars, preventing her from knowing the true story behind the attack. She frowned as an idea dawned on her. There was a way to get information from Alpha platform, a way that would be relatively safe for her.

She would talk to her dreaded sister-in-law.

***

Octavia, in Rebecca’s opinion, was like a snake. It was graceful, moved softly, and had a habit of digging its fangs in. Of course, Octavia had no idea that Rebecca held this opinion of her.

“Oh, dearest Rebecca, we must do this more often!” Octavia gushed as they walked around Lamda platform. “It is truly liberating to be away from that house for a bit, don’t you think?"

Rebecca shrugged. “I suppose. It is a rather nice house.” She pointed out. “And Alpha platform is absolutely gorgeous."

Octavia frowned. “It might be pretty, Rebecca, but don’t think that it’s the nicest. Honestly, when Nathan receives his inheritance, we’re going to have a mansion twice as nice."

“Are you suggesting that my father might die soon?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow, slightly annoyed. “He is far from death, and there’s a seat for him on the Council in sight."

Octavia stopped walking. “Are you making an accusation?” She asked coldly.

“Of course not, dearest Octavia.” Rebecca answered sweetly. “I was just telling you about my father’s achievements."

Octavia nodded. “Of course, your father should be proud. However, that seat’s not going to be enjoyable to have, with those rebel scum mucking around.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Rebecca raised the perfect eyebrow in mock confusion. “Rebel scum? There’s no rebellion."

“Don’t be so naive, Rebecca.” Octavia laughed. “Of course there’s a rebellion. I’ve heard Walter Steers mention it."

“Walter Steers told you about a rebellion.” Rebecca said skeptically, in order to keep her cover.

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Well, not all at once. But he did tell me.” She confided. “He said that there’s this underground resistance or something, and they’re going to come and kill everyone on Alpha platform!” She proclaimed, horrified.

Rebecca mirrored Octavia’s look of horror, trying to weed information out of her. “Surely they’re going to do something about it. We can’t have those people coming up here."

Octavia nodded. “He said they found their base- on one of the lower, disgusting platforms, but they didn’t manage to get any of the leaders yet. They’re going to try again soon, he said.”

Rebecca frowned. “You can’t be serious."

“Oh, but I am. I think they’re just going to grab whoever now.” Octavia pursed her lip. “Walter explained it using a fancy word."

“Hostages?” Rebecca suggested. “That’s what they do in books."

Octavia rolled her eyes. “You and your books. Honestly, how do you expect to get a husband when you’re reading all the time?"

“Well, Walter Steers is well-read.” Rebecca shrugged. “Perhaps he would like someone of the same caliber."

Octavia smiled in a way that Rebecca immediately found off-putting. “Oh, that would be nice. I could picture it, actually."

“Picture what, exactly?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

“You should really pursue him.” Octavia decided. “He is a rather good kisser."

Rebecca was lucky that she was a decent actress and feigned a blush before following Octavia back to the ferry. Although she was furious that Octavia was cheating on her brother, she was glad she got information. However, there were still other thoughts tugging at the back of her mind. Why did Octavia know so much about the resistance? Or more, why was Walter giving someone like Octavia what was private government information? These thoughts plagued her on the ride back to Alpha platform.

***

When Rebecca got home, she retreated back to her rooms, claiming that she needed some ‘beauty sleep’ before dinner. Of course, Octavia believed her superficial lie, and made a tease about Rebecca’s ‘future’ relationship with Walter. She paced her rooms with pen and paper in hand, working on coding the information she had just received. The only thing that troubled her, was the way she got the information.

Yes, the right thing to do was to send on the information, but was _any_ of it trustworthy? She was trusting the word of Octavia, and as she had just learned, her word didn’t mean much. However, Octavia’s information could be valuable, and on the off-chance that it was accurate, Rebecca would be able to give the leaders a warning. She quickly finished coding the letter, sealing it and hiding it in her spot.

She walked through the rest of the day like she was in a trance, though she just appeared slightly withdrawn. Her parents didn’t push at her, though her brother only questioned her mildly, she passed it off as being a bit tired. Nathan frowned but bought her lie, turning the conversation back to a party the Hazards were hosting the next week. Rebecca paid attention to the conversation, knowing that it would be a wonderful opportunity to fact-check the information Octavia gave her.

Later, Rebecca retreated back to her room, and checked her hiding place, pleased to find her letter gone. However, there was another letter marked by an acorn in it’s place, which gave Rebecca pause. There was no way they could have written back so swiftly, so she assumed it was a summons for her. Quickly, she opened the letter, scanning the inside.

 

 

> Dearest Rebecca,
> 
> I hope you’re doing well. How is your health? You looked slightly pale last time we talked. Please write back this time, as I wouldn’t want to worry too much about you.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Dr. Oak

Rebecca paled. She knew what this letter meant: she was in some sort of trouble. Ironically, the trouble was that she didn’t know the _type_ of trouble she was in. Had she been compromised, or did she break a rule she was unaware of?

She stood up and crossed her room, quickly throwing the letter into the fire. One thing was certain: everything had just gotten more dangerous, and she couldn’t trust anyone.


	28. Lily Codan / Nikkimarie-1123

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @nikkimarie-1123.

Lily fought along side many but she tried her best to get all of the innocent people out when the assassin had got her she had gotten a cut on her leg she now limps around trying to hide the fact she's part of the resistance, if the peaople closest to her like her brother had found out or the upper gov’t found out she didnt want to put the people she loves in danger


	29. Elise Wallace / @fangirl-musician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @fangirl-musician.

The letter I received late that night was jarring, and inspiring. I don't frequently go to the base, and some sense of 'thank god I wasn't there' was selfishly going through me head.

The Gazette, The Times, and the underground newspapers, Transcript and The London-In-The-Air Post, were all set for printing in a few hours, so I didn't have much time to get anything in.

I was pretty sure I could get headlines, or at least a larger article for the Transcript and The Post, but with the larger ones, they'd have to be discreet. So two stories, forty five minutes, and a thirty minute walk to all the printing presses.

By the time I left the house, I had ink stains all over my dress and hands, and was rushing, not sure if my stories would be out in time, but sure enough, my trustworthy contacts slipped me in.

The next morning, my mailbox was full, eight newspapers in total, in addition to a few resistance letters. I was slightly sore from the walk from my home on Nu, to the presses there, and then the frantic run to Gamma, where the Gazette and Times printed, so I settled into my reading chair to open up the mail.

I was glad to see my headlines on the underground rebel papers, ATTACK ON REBEL BASE, and GOVERNMENT'S UNWARRANTED ATTACK, in addition to the small articles in the larger papers, calls to arms, and some mindless babble I wrote about the abruptness of it all. I notice a few other articles, presumably written by other members of the resistance, though I was glad I got two of the largest underground papers. My goal has always been to bring more awareness to the pervertedness of the government, and this has only helped my cause.

A few letters from friends and acquaintances, small tips, and some info to track down. And then the letter, with short, messy handwriting, something I recognized. Though this looked a bit more rushed than usual.

Phillip Jacobs, a old relationship, requesting to meet to share something. I didn't detail what, but I could only assume it was info that should have been headed towards the base, if only it hadn't been destroyed.

I can't say I wasn't excited to meet up with him again, but with our rather wary past, it was still not the most ideal of situations.

Walking out the door, I headed to the ally, where supposedly I was to meet Phillip. He wasn't hard to spot, I immediately recognized the messy brown hair that frequently flopped in front of his face. He was smoking a cigar, and exhaling the awful smoke that used to fill my lungs and shrivel them. Back where I grew up, my uncle's place, my only family, and his friends would smoke, and I would cough all night. That home created a distaste for all the things the rebels used, alcohol, smoke, and gambling.

"Phillip," I said, jolting him from his thoughts. His eyes turned to do a full sweep of me.

"Good to see you, Elise. You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, but I don’t have time for formalities. Come along,” I glanced at his cigar again, knowing he wouldn't stop, but it wouldn't hurt to let him know I'd be getting away from his smoky breath as soon as possible. We entered deeper into the ally, under my direction, “What is it? I’m eager to know what the ever-so sneaky side of the resistance has brought me this time.”

“Oh, you know how much I believe in you. You might already know what I have,” Somewhat correct. It would likely be information on some deep, confidential details, that under normal circumstances, wouldn't be for my eyes.

"Don’t waste my time, please,” I couldn't say the conversation was going well, and I was very anxious about any fallout from the articles. With no name attached, it would be harder for the government to find me, but I had ended up in jail a few times before, and they knew my position in the journalists of the resistance.

Phillip glances over my shoulder, into the street, and I notice exactly what the problem was. I hadn't covered my tracks well enough. "I'm sorry," I whisper to Phillip, as he draws a dagger.

These three government men have probably followed me from home, and I didn't notice. I'm so well trained in this, I've been doing this for so many years. And yet the most embarrassing thing is that it's Phillip who notices first, not me.

Phillip takes on two of the men, while the other charges at me. The fight is incredible quiet, it has to be, as not to draw any attention. I'm only armed with a small pistol, and am definitely not strong enough to fight hand-to-hand with the large man. In the short amount of time Phillip manages to take down the two attackers, and I whip out my gun, point, and shoot.

I forgot how loud gunfire was. It had been a long time since I'd ever killed anyone. Back at my uncle's was where my combat training happened, but that was somehow different. It didn't feel the same. Those men were smaller, they weren't government, they were just awful, drunk men. I definitely wasn't beyond harming someone, but this was too far.

I stare at Phillip, realizing the attention it must have drawn from the street, and horrified at what I'd done. I drop the pistol as Phillip grabs my hand, pulling me through the fence at the back of the ally, and burst into the crowds of the next street, quickly moving our way through to the street corner.

“I- I need to go,” I say, looking into Phillip's eyes. We broke apart years ago, it was too dangerous for me to be involved with anything, but there was some distant comfort there. He put his hands on my shoulders.

“You can’t go home, they know where you live. Elise, do you have somewhere to go?” No.

“Yes, yes. Please. I’ll be fine. Good-goodbye," I had to lie to get out of this, and I slipped back into the crowd moving into the heart of the throng, enough to disappear from a shocked Phillip, slowly walking away.

Racking my brain for ideas of where to go, I decided to return to my flat, where I could recollect myself.

I had enough money stored, I could just move. But could I leave behind all that my home had become? It was a safe place to write, and a place that the people had come to feel comfortable sharing their stories. It was the only way to contact me. Without it I was alone, like always.

***

Back at my flat, I recollected myself, remembering that the government probably already knew where I lived, probably years before. And they only came to find me because I wrote something controversial in the big papers.

I needed to find someplace for the night though, and so I grabbed all my things, and packed up one of the many typewriters, and headed back to my uncle's home.

I'd heard word that he'd died a few years back, but his house was still in the same condition, nobody ever moved in. And I could tell why, it smelled like rotten food, the floorboards creaked a little too much to feel safe, and the neighbors were a little too loud. But it would do for the night.

I dropped my bags, and walked over to the alcohol cabinet, where the strong spirits that had been fermenting on this same shelf for who knows how long. And I poured myself a drink for the first time in my life.


	30. Marissa Jones / @my-dearest-fandoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @my-dearest-fandoms.

Marissa was walking home after a long day on the streets and someone she barely recognises handed her a letter. She saw that it was addressed to her, leaning against the wall of the street she was in she opened the letter. She looked around and read in a mixture of horror and disappointment. She knew that if she was found to be in the resistance then her and her brother would not be able to keep going as they were. Her brother would want to join, but Marissa wouldn't allow him to be in imperative danger. She made her way home quicker than usual, trying to think of what to do.

The day after she was handed the letters Marissa was feeling extremely overprotective and told her brother to stay home that day. She told him that something didn't feel right and that they both needed a day off. But in reality she was just worried about those government assassins coming after him. She was still formulating a plan as to what to do next.

Marissa was considering a few things: tell her brother (which would be hard and dangerous), go after some rich people who work for the government (maybe steal their stuff when they are on the streets), go to Pi (find out what's going on), find out more information from her _friends_ Zarina or Moria. She wasn't sure which paths she would take yet but she was sure to be ready for which ever one she choose.

Her and her brother spent the day reading and playing some very old and dusty board games. Their home on Zeta was abandoned when they found it, because of an infestation of rats and mice. When they ran across it it just looked run-down but they took shelter there and from the simple act of buying a cat the infestation was gone.(also they make sure it looks still run down so no one suspects anyone is living there and is anyone says anything well they will just say that their parents are out of town) Because of their place on Zeta there are lots of chances to interact with the rich and middle class. Marissa will use this to her advantage when she sets out on her little venture wherever she goes.


	31. Maddie Summers / @a-eterno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @a-eterno. It was co-written by Polyvore user @natasha-maree13.

Maddie's hand shook as she threw the letter into the fire, her eyebrows nearly covering her now story gray-blue eyes.

"How... how did they know?" She whispered, dropping her head into her hands, cursing under her breath. Maddie felt as if it was a personal failure of her part, as if if she had tried hard enough, then nothing would've happened and everyone would be safe.

Donning on some white clothes that she had recently bought, she composed herself to look decent enough before opening her parasol an walking out the front door.

The massive Alpha mansion that her parents had bequeathed her stood proudly, surrounded by miles of fanciful gardens. Her parents were not of the nobility, but they were almost disgustingly rich. As of now, she had not a clue where they were-- they were most likely traveling the world along with their lifelong friends, the Blackwells.

Speaking of the devil...

Lucian had suddenly appeared in front of her, making her blink.

"Why hello Lucian," she said, a bit perturbed.

"Oh for once in your life, Madelaide-- lay off with the pleasantries. Did you hear the news?"

"Oh course I did, you dolt." She glanced around, seeing the peering faces of the rest of the fair folk.

Perhaps they were wondering why Maddie even bothered speaking to one of the most eligible bachelors in the Ton, or was it because they were eavesdropping?

"Even the walls have ears, Lucian. Try not to speak as if I was dead." She hissed, glaring at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Where do you want to meet, then?"

"On the way between Lambda and Nu, close to the warehouse. At three. Got it?" She whispered urgently. He nodded in response, walking away.

Sighing, Maddie rushed back home. She had a lot to do before three.

***

Wiping the sweat off her face, she dropped her horse whip on the bottom of the seat as she stepped out of her curricle, ignoring the looks of the stunned passerbys. A curricle was strictly considered a man's carriage, but Maddie didn't really care, obviously.

Picking up one of the two large crates that she had stored in the back and covered with large tarps, she glared at Lucian-- who seemed to be staring at her in admiration.

"Nice job with evading those society norms, Maddie. You've learned from the best." He smirked and preened, making her frown.

"I'm going to throw this at you if you don't shut up and pick up the other one."

He paled and picked up the other crate.

"Alright, alright. I got it. So what are we doing?"

"Let me show you." She smirked at him.

She started walking, smirking as he scrambled after her. The crates contained the remnants of the Pi base, including some of the important documents that had been purportedly "lost" in the attack. The documents were stored below the "bottom" of the crates, which were sealed with a liquid that Maddie had created herself-- it was a sort of tacky glue that disguised the fact that she had even glued the piece of wood there in the first place. Also, it couldn't be opened unless if a special chemical was poured on it, which Maddie just oh so casually had with her.

She got word from one of the Rebellion members on the street that the Rebellion had temporarily located to the warehouse just down the street, so she was delivering all of the wares there. She hoped it would help.

As they neared the back entrance, she extracted a key from her pocket, and opened the lock with said key. The pair entered silently, closing the door quietly. They traveled down the stair before they opened the door at the bottom.

There was unexpectedly not a warm welcome for them.

A cold hard gun was pointed at their heads.

Maddie nearly dropped the supplies.

"We're here with supplies, whomever is holding the gun."

"Then step into the light." The gun pressed closer, so they did so pretty damn quickly.

As they stepped into the light, the gun lowered.

It was Mrs. Massey holding the gun, with a determined glint in her eyes.

"Thank you Madelaide, Lucian. Please come in."

She said. "Now, what have you got there?"

Lucian wordlessly handed his crate to the woman, but Maddie just set hers on a wooden table nearby.

"May you direct me to the Sick Wing? I have some people I am concerned about." She said, wringing her now free hands.

"Yes of course Madelaide. Just keep on walking down the corridor, and then take the second sharp right."

"Oh, yes Mrs. Massey. One more thing."

"Yes?" The woman sounded a smidgen annoyed, obviously wanting to see the loot. Maddie tossed the vial filed with the unsealing liquid at her, which landed on top of the tarp.

"You'll need this to take off the fake top."

Mrs. Masseys' eyes filled with a bit of pride. "Oh, you devious girl."

***

"Are you quite certain you're alright?" Maddie asked for the last time to her scientific partner in crime, George ( or Gina ), Gunn. The woman rolled her eyes.

"You are acting like my mother."

"Yes...?"

"Maddie."

"Yes?"

"I'm four years older than you."

Maddie giggled, making George roll her eyes.

"And you, Mrs. Dutch?" She said, turning toward the woman. She was kept to her bed, and the gunshot was a slightly black colour, but otherwise healthy.

"Yes, I'm fine Madelaide. Thank you for bringing the rest of the documents back. That was very brave of you."

"Oh, no problem."

The three continued to talk before Madelaide was ushered out of the room by the annoyed medics, complaining that she was distracting the patients.

Coming back to the main room, she caught the eyes of Lucian.

"Listen, can you take my curricle? I want to have some headspace tonight." Maddie told Lucian, whose eyes softened.

"Of course."

They parted ways at the front of the warehouse. Maddie gave him a tired smile.

"Alright, see you later Lucian." He just smiled back, and melted into the late evening shadows.

***

A soft evening shower started to pour over London-in-the-Air as Maddie walked through the different districts of her beloved city, loving the sights that she saw on the normal streets.

This is how real people live, with no restraints, Maddie thought proudly. She would definitely fight until the end for the rights of these people, even if her life was sacrificed In the process.

Smiling at the thought, she walked into the small crossroad that was well known as a nifty shortcut. However, it seemed to be completely empty.

How peculiar.

Suddenly, the shadows in the grimy corners seemed to get darker and greasier as Maddie shivered, bringing her dark coat closer to her frame.

A hooded figure stepped out of the shadows, walking right next to her. Instead of speaking to her, they tucked a letter in her jacket lapel. Walking away quickly, the person melted back into the shadows.

Waiting a second to make sure that it wasn't made of paper tinted with deadly arsenic, she opened the letter.

All what it said was:

 

> _"they know who you are. watch your back, because they are coming for you."_
> 
> _a friend._

Maddie gulped, and tucked the letter into her coat. But, before she could, the letter burst into flames in her hands.

Maddie paled considerably and ran all the way home, not noticing the dull glint of teeth smiling in the shadows.

***

The family butler, Jacques, peered at the waterlogged woman before sighing and taking her coat.

"Straight to the bath, Mademoisele." Before Maddie could stagger up the stairs, the stately butler wordlessly handed her a letter. She almost snatched it, restraining a yawn.

As she was in her luxurious bubble bath, she read the back of the letter. It was an invitation to the Hazard's House, and the subject of the ball seemed to be hidden.

Sighing, Maddie discarded the card stock letter into the table nearby, and sighed.

It was going to be a long week.


	32. Lucian Blackwell / @natasha-maree13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by Polyvore user @natasha-maree13. It consists of two sections from two different Polyvore sets. The first section was co-written by Polyvore user @a-eterno and contains overlap from the previous chapter.

Lucian was tinkering with Cleopatra, the mechanical bird that belonged to Gwendolyn once upon a time. It had stopped working around the same time that Gwenny had been murdered…her body found caste aside in the alley like a piece of garbage. Having gotten nowhere with many of the leads that he’d scrounge up, Lucian was taking some time to try and figure out why the blasted bird wasn’t working. 

“Master Blackwell?” The voice belonged to their family butler, Ansel Williams standing there in the doorway to Lucian’s study with a silver tray in his hands, a letter resting on the metal. “A letter has arrived for you.”

“I’m busy, Ansel!” Lucian snapped, getting frustrated with this bird! Lucian could fix a lot of things…but this bird had him stumped…it had been a gift to Gwenny when she was fourteen and she won her first fencing match against him. He waited to hear if the butler turned to leave…only he didn’t. Lucian practically threw the screwdriver on the workbench and spun around, taking his goggles off. “What?”

“An acorn and dogwood insignia, sir?”

Lucian jumped to his feet and snatched the letter off him. “That’ll be all, Ansel.” He closed the door behind the butler and ripped open the letter, reading the contents…his jaw slowly dropped with each sentence…his mouth grew dry and he had a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach. The rebellion…attacked…? How, how did they find out where the base was? Lucian scrunched the letter up and threw it in the shredder. Senior members of the rebellion were…were injured…some people were dead…

He ventured into the bedroom that joined up to his bedroom and stripped off to clean up and put something more respectable on. Lucian needed to go see Maddie and see if she’d gotten the same news that he had. He threw one a dark purple shirt with a golden waistcoat and a pair of black pants with black boots, grabbing his jacket, hat and glasses before heading out to find his best friend. 

***

There was Madelaide Summers walking in the gardens outside wearing white with a parasol to protect her from the sun. Lucian looked over the top of his glasses and crossed the walkway, stopping right in front of her…Maddie was in her own little world…judging by the look on her face, she’d gotten the same letter as he did. She stopped when she saw him, blinking as if she was in shock. “Why hello Lucian.”

“Oh for once in your life, Madelaide—lay off with the pleasantries. Did you hear the news?” Lucian snapped, not beating around the bush. 

“Of course I did, you dolt.” Maddie looked around so Lucian followed suit, they were being watched by the rest of the fair folk-probably wondering why the most eligible bachelors in the Ton…or they were eavesdropping? “Even the walls have ears, Lucian. Try not to speak as if I was dead.”

Lucian rolled his eyes. “Where do you want to meet, then?” he asked, ignoring the glare she was giving him. 

“On the way between Lambda and Nu, close to the warehouse. At three. Got it?” 

Lucian tipped his hat to her and turned to walk away, whistling a tune. 

***

Lucian had spent a majority of his afternoon trying to fix Cleopatra. He knew that she would be useful to the rebellion in some way so he was determined to find what the problem was. Turns out…there was a problem with Cleopatra’s coded gears…Lucian sighed and went in search of the book he’d purchased a few months ago on coding gears…if he could figure it out…voice messages could be given to these clockwork birds and only unlocked with a code…the rebellion was going to love it. 

Nearing three in the afternoon, Lucian excused himself from the house and Vanessa, before going for an afternoon stroll with a bag containing the bird and his code book. For the moment it was just him and his little sister in the house, their parents were off travelling with the Summers, the last communication from his father had said something about the pyramids. 

He’d found Maddie just where she said she was going to be, fiddling around with some boxes and her curricle. Lucian leant back against the wall with a grin. “Nice job with evading those society norms, Maddie,” he teased. “You’ve learned from the best.”

Maddie frowned. “I’m going to throw this at you if you don’t shut up and pick up the other one.” She was, of course, speaking about the large crates that she had stored in the back. 

Lucian held his arms up in defence. “Alright, alright. I got it. So what are we doing?”

Maddie smirked. “Let me show you.”

Lucian followed Maddie with his own crate. He really wasn’t paying too much attention, more thinking about his own project. Of course fixing Cleopatra was also in the memory of Gwenny but he had an alternate use for the clockwork bird. As the two of the came around into the alley, Maddie pulled a key from her pocket and opened the lock of a door that lead down a flight of stairs…

They didn’t exactly get a warm welcome…but hey…Lucian wasn’t expecting one. 

Lucian and Maddie found that there was a gun pointed at their heads…and of course Maddie nearly dropped the supplies. 

"We're here with supplies, whomever is holding the gun."

"Then step into the light." The gun pressed closer, so they did so pretty quickly.

When they stepped into the light, the gun lowered…It was Mrs. Massey holding them at gun point, with a determined glint in her eyes.

"Thank you Madelaide, Lucian. Please come in. Now, what have you got there?"

Lucian wordlessly handed his crate to the woman, but Maddie just set hers on a wooden table nearby. 

"May you direct me to the Sick Wing? I have some people I am concerned about." She said, wringing her now free hands.

"Yes of course Madelaide. Just keep on walking down the corridor, and then take the second sharp right."

Lucian waited until Maddie had finished her business with Mrs. Massey before putting his satchel on the table. “So, I’ve a proposition for you.”

“I’m busy boy, make it quick!” the older woman barked. 

Lucian sat Cleopatra on the table in between them followed by the book. “Cleopatra used to belong to my sister. She’s a clockwork bird that can record songs and sing them back to you.” He smirked, “I’m proposing that we use these birds to pass on messages to members of the rebellion. These messages can be coded and only interpreted with the right key, so to speak.”

Mrs. Massey stared him down. “We’ll see what we can do with them. We’ve more use for the Osiris though…can you make sure he’s ready in case you need to go?” Mrs. Massey, of course, was speaking of Lucian’s airship the Osiris, one of the first thing’s Lucian had ever brought. He used the ship for smuggling people or goods in or out of the city. 

Lucian nodded. “The Osiris is always ready to go. I’ll call the full crew in just in case we need to go. Nessa’s been telling people I’m planning an expedition back to Peru so I can use that as a cover if need be.”

“Keep working on the bird and the book!” she huffed as Lucian headed for the door. 

***

Maddie found Lucian a little later flicking through his notes in his little notebook. She asked him to take the curricle back home, she had a lot to think about. She wasn’t the only one who had a lot to think about…Lucian was toying with the fact that Nessa was going to have to come with him if he needed to flee…he couldn’t leave her alone after the rebellion had been targeted…and not so soon after Gwenny’s death. 

By the time Lucian had got home, it was raining…Lucian didn’t worry about being in the rain, he simply just strolled back towards the house where Ansel was waiting for him, a black envelope in his hands. “I don’t think I could handle another surprise this evening, Ansel.”

“This arrived shortly after you left, sir,” Ansel replied. 

Lucian stood in the doorway dripping wet but with little care to his current condition. He carefully opened the letter and froze when a lock of pale red hair dropped to the ground. He immediately snatched the hair up…it smelt of lavender and fresh cotton…Gwenny. He glanced at the letter and scowled at the sight of the silver writing…

STOP LOOKING INTO THE DEATH OF GWENDOLYN BLACKWELL…YOU HAVE ANOTHER SISTER TO WORRY ABOUT

"Lucian!" Nessa shouted, running down the stairs in her nightdress, she was holding something in her hands...another letter. Lucian was getting sick of this at the moment. "We're going to a ball!" she shrieked.

Nessa threw herself into her brother's arms and shoved this invite in his face...it was an invitation to the Hazard's House, and the subject of the ball seemed to be hidden. 

Lucian curled his fists in anger…nobody…and he meant nobody…threatened his family…it was only a matter of time and now he had a ball to worry about of all things...

 

Vanessa Blackwell sat in the sitting room, fingers drumming along the arm of the chair she was sitting on. She held a book in her other hand, trying to focus on reading but her mind continued to wander. There was so many things she had to think about...her sister being one of them, her parents running away was the other. She sat the book in her lap and sighed, she wished that she was able to just push away her feelings like her parents had but Nessa was not that kind of woman.

As Nessa got to her feet, the doorbell rang. Looking at the time, she straightened her coat before marching to the door. Nessa hadn't realized the time otherwise she would have had some tea out for her guest.

A young Master Issac Michaels was coming to pay a visit to her brother, Lucian. Nessa screened all of Lucian's appointments to weed out the useless ones, the bad eggs. The Blackwell's had a reputation and it was Nessa's job to make sure that nothing tainted that reputation. Knowing that Ansel wasn't going to answer the door, Nessa made her way to the front door and opened it to a young man with arms full of papers. "Master Michaels I presume?"

"Yes. Yes!" he replied. "Is your master at home?"

"My master is busy at the moment but you will be speaking with me," Nessa nearly spat. "And for future reference, he isn't my master, he's my brother. I'm Vanessa Blackwell." She could see him practically turn the same shade of red as Gwenny's hair used to be. "Come in, Master Michaels," she snipped. Nessa stood aside to allow this Issac Micheals into the house. She closed the door behind him and showed the young man to father's office where she took a seat where he used to sit. "Take a seat."

Nessa couldn't help but wonder what exactly this man thought of her but she imagined that it wasn't a good thing. Women in this day and age were to be seen and not heard. "Now you'll explain to me what exactly it is you want and why Lucian should take up your case. I will tell you if this job is accepted or if you should run with your tail between your legs."

He sat down and fixed his papers up on the desk in front of him. "Well, Lady Vanessa-"

"Nessa," she cut him off. "I work for a living."

"Nessa," he corrected himself. "Call me Issac. Master Michaels makes me think of my father."

Nessa didn't laugh. "I'm not particularly in a laughing mood."

Issac looked her up and down. "Yes, I apologize for calling on your in your time of mourning, Nessa. However I have need for an airship and I hear the Osiris is the best, her captain is the best."

"What is it you seek?" Nessa inquired. "You're a young man showing too much ambition in your life right now." She held her hand out and waited for Issac to hand her the answer she was seeking. Quietly Nessa read over the document and sat it down on the table. "My family is rather familiar with the territories in Africa. However...this we are not...the Cradle of Life?" she mused and got to her feet. "Come with me."

Issac was expected to follow her. The two made their way through the twists and turns that led out to the courtyard where there were two men seated on the ground mediating. "What are they doing?" he whispered.

Nessa didn't answer, instead she threw a towel at Lucian's face. "Brother! We have a guest!"

Lucian opened a single eye and broke out in a grin. "Gentleman caller, Nessie? Mother will be thrilled."

"He's here to see you," she deadpanned. "He has use of the Osiris."

Lucian jumped to his feet and crossed to the water barrel to dunk his head in. The afternoon had been a busy one...Ansel liked to put him through his paces that's for sure. "Who?"

"This is Issac Michaels," Nessa introduced, "Issac, this is my brother Lucian Blackwell, acting lord of Blackwell Estate."

"I don't mean to be rude but I'm not taking any work at the moment," Lucian told him. "But thanks for dropping by."

Nessa grabbed Lucian's arm and dragged him over to speak in private. "Lucian, I think you should take it," Nessa whispered in his ears. "It's the Cradle of Life! THE Cradle of Life!"

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Really?" he asked.

She nodded.

Lucian sighed. "I can't leave now...there's important work that need's to be taken care of."

Nessa raised an eyebrow. She knew what Lucian and Maddie were up to. "Yes, I am aware of that. However, you need to do this. Think of it! The Cradle of Life!"

Lucian looked back at Issac who was watching him like a stunned fish. "Let me clean up and we can work on some of the details."


End file.
